Capital Vices
by the corrupted quiet one
Summary: Damien holds grudges. So when he unleashes the seven deadly sins to embody seven South Park teens, can they figure out what's going on in time to save themselves or will they be corrupted?   M for every reason in the book. Multiple pairs  slash & het
1. Damned

The flames of hellfire danced around the dark-haired boy, the scarlet blazes surrounding him as the forever burned in the depths of the home of the damned. The humanly unbearable heat was nothing compared to how it normally was; Hell wasn't the most air conditioned place though it was still a crowded hot spot.

The boy glared into the fire, rubies burning with a brooding anger as he watched the yellow, orange, and red sway in a heated never ending brawl. His thoughts still lingered in his days on earth—not that he was there too often—as he thought about a certain few children in a certain mountain whose jeers and cruelty still bothered him like a claw in a lion's paw.

"You'd think they'd respect the son of the Satan..." He muttered bitterly, hugging his knees to his chest as he brooded, "Why...They should learn to fear the name Damien...Don't those insolent humans realise what I could do to them..."

Damien gazed into the fire, seeing in the flames seven of his least favourite people, each one of their faces sickening to the antichrist. He scowled, looking over each one with disgust and faint pity.

"Why...I could name everything about you seven..." Damien chuckled darkly, taking a long look at each one before focusing his attention on the first head the flames showed. This first image in the fire showed a boy, about Damien's ripe age of seventeen or so (although all of them were), with a messy crop of black hair covered by a marine hat adorned with a red puffball. Despite being painted in the fire, the boy's eyes were still a stunning cobalt blue, a colour that seemed to mock the demonic teen staring into them.

"You..." Damien said slowly, addressing the head in the flames, "Stanley Randall Marsh... You and all your friends have mocked me for too long. Of course there's you and your fucking jock perfection... Football, soccer, hockey, what the fuck can't you do? And you're such a humanitarian with your love for the other creatures of the earth, going out of your way just to save a fucking piece of crap animal that was put there to die in the first place. Oh, you're life's just perfect with your best friends and your girlfriend and your motherfucking popularity. And yet you have some depression issue still, you over emotional bastard, and let's not forget your little incidents of substance abuse..." He chuckled darkly, knowing well that Stan couldn't actually hear all the verbal abuse being directed at him, but still feeling damn good about saying it, "We see everything that goes on with you here in Hell, Marsh... And we still hold grudges..."

With that, Damien scoffed, turning to the next image in line. He was rather ill-delighted to see the head of the only Jewish boy in the town he'd grown to loathe, the red curls even more vivid in the light of the fire, though most remained hidden by the ushanka the boy never seemed to take off. The emeralds beset on his pale face were revolting to Damien, filling him with even more angst-triggered rage than Stan.

"Ah, Kyle Broflovski," He greeted the next head, "The only Jewish resident in all of South Park. You proud motherfucker, with your Jersey heritage and your daywalker nature... You spend all your time with books and studies like a little nerd who should get mocked and thrown in a trash can and yet your super best friend acts as your popularity shield. Yeah, you can shoot a basketball pretty well, but your shots with girls are never gone for. Why? Well maybe you're just a little Jewish faggot who won't admit it, but I suppose you're the only one who can answer that. I doubt you'd admit anything anyway, seeing your mother would go psycho-bitch on you and maybe your little friendship with Marsh wouldn't protect you any longer from a little ridicule...Do you know what it's like to be made fun of, Kyle? Of course you know the fatass' usual bullshit, but how about when everyone in the entire school save for one starts to mock and tease you all at the same time for little or no reason, hmm? I bet you don't know..." He shook his head, slowly switching to glance at the next figure, "You'll soon learn..."

Again, Damien was burnt by brilliant eyes of blue, though these sapphires belonged to a blond with dirty blond hair and orange parka. He'd seen _his_ face more times than the others, not having to be on earth to meet with one who wasn't just a mere mortal. However, even if they weren't physically encountering it didn't stop the dark-haired boy from gagging, nearly smelling the poor boy's rancid constant stench of booze and tobacco mixed with motor oil and dirt.

"Kenneth McCormick, so we meet yet again..." Damien drawled, "Poor as shit and yet you've still created quite a reputation for yourself. Well, one based off your dick, but a reputation none the less. No one really knows why you keep coming back... That Cthulhu stuff is a bit sketchy after all. You always bitch about how much it hurts to die and then have no one care to remember. What a fucking pity to be able to have life come back to your corpse and have you able to walk around town like nothing happened when you technically should be rotting down here with me like a normal human. Not to mention you're the reason my father lost the battle for Heaven...You fucking Keanu Reeves... And you were the chosen one why? Because you could play a fucking video game? You broke the Mormon rule despite the fact that you've taken every substance in the book, drank every cocktail you could get your grimy hands on, and then fucked just about everything that'll move and has a place for your cock. I bet it feels damn great to know you've fucked a good percentage of the school. But I wonder if you'll ever tell who you care about that you have feelings other than horny and retard. Or is that just all you are; a horny retard."

He moved to the next image with another scoff, having seen enough of Kenny in his never ending lifetime. Next was the fat boy that even Satan would love to kick in the face, his hair and eyes the same colour as the Hersheys he enjoyed scarffing down, his cyan and yellow hat not making his appearance any less ghastly to the demon. Damien could almost feel a few chunks of barf crawl up his throat.

"Ugh...Eric Theodore Cartman...Everyone's least favourite person..." Damien sneered, "You're not big boned for fuck's sake; you're just a fat turd. You're so-called friends don't even like you; you just mooch off them and hang out with them like some overweight leech. And yet you're still somehow tolerated despite the fact that you verbally abuse everyone daily? You're a ball of hate after all, considering you've tried multiple times to do what Adolf down here failed to in the forties. Of course you, you racist son of a bitch, would feel no remorse in killing your own father and yet the only tears you ever shed for him were over the fact that you're 'half ginger'...You make me look like a saint, lard ass! I'm evil by birth though I've yet to feed my half-brother—though I don't even have one—my father and his mother in a bowl of chilli then lick his 'sweet saddened tears' after embarrassing him in front of his favourite band. That is, I've _yet_ to be that cruel... Just know that you're going to have competition..."

The next one the boy scorned at was a girl, her hazel eyes and flowing black hair beautiful to many, but nauseating to Damien.

"Wendy Testaburger, hmm?" He cocked a brow, "The liberal feminist activist and girlfriend of the school quarterback Stan Marsh. Everyone knows you well, what with all your political activity in the school. You're far smarter than most of the town and you take what you want as it's yours...However that's likely why you have your boyfriend under such lock and key. You couldn't stand the possibility of losing Stan to anyone, so you basically threaten and bully anyone who dares to get near him. It's not that bad a philosophy, seeing as you've managed to make it work out, but all that envy and self-righteousness can get you into deep trouble, you bitch. Aside from your hatred towards the fatass—and that underlying foe yay that could be a reason for a few of your outbursts—there are a few other enemies you can easily make through jealousy. Don't think that everyone loves you oh so much...you may act 'for the people' but you're using that more as a slogan to cover up how much of a selfish bitch you are deep down. But everyone will know soon enough your true nature..."

A curly blonde was the sixth in line, Damien shuddering at the site of the girl, glowering into her blue eyes. Of course, he was on the lesser threats at this point, though he was still holding a couple more resentments.

"Bebe Stevens, why lookie there..." The boy said in mock cheer, "The greedy little slut cheerleader everyone knows and loves. Must be nice to have an automatic charm that gets all the boys to come to you, huh? Of course, that charm happens to come in a pair on your chest. But doesn't everyone see how freaking bitchy you are? True, you and Wendy are friends again now, but you remember the times you've abandoned her and even tried to _kill_ her, correct? And over what? _Shoes?_ You just want to keep your popularity and your little spot on top...You're just a cunt that has to have what she wants and have a lot of it... Well you'll get more than you'll want soon enough..."

Damien looked at the final face, rolling his eyes at the angel-faced teenager with the face of a child. The tuff of bright yellow hair on the top of his head revolted Damien, the crystal blue eyes only adding to his sickness.

"Leopold Stotch..." The demonic boy grumbled, "Better known as Butters, for whatever reason. You're the living Peter Pan, you know? At least in mind, considering you're basically a seven year old trapped in a body ten years the soul's senior. You live everything like motherfucking rainbows and butterflies and goddamn sunshine, huh? Nothing bad, even if your parents do constantly ground you for no reason and even if you are periodically beaten by your father who you caught sleeping around with other men. I bet you don't even know what 'bi-curious' means after all these years, even though you act gay for the fatass and happen to be the only one who gives a rat's ass about him in a positive light. I wonder when you'll get a clue. Fuck, one of these days maybe you'll feed off that ignorance surrounding you and become as round as Cartman is. Seriously...what the fuck is _wrong_ with you, you moronic faggot?"

With that, the antichrist groaned, shooting dirty looks at each of the heads again, recalling all the tormenting words he remembered so clearly that they'd thrown at him. After all this time he thought maybe he'd move on...but for some reason it all just stuck with him and poked at him, constantly buzzing in his angst-filled skull like a mosquito.

But now, it was time for the bug to get swatted.

A twisted smirk came to Damien's face, eyes shining with a devilish cunning idea that popped into his warped mind.

"Well..." He said, folding his hands over one another as he plotted, "Perhaps you failed to respect me before...But I'm sure you'll all learn your lessons when you come under my reign... And perhaps I should welcome you to my future kingdom... In fact... I'll send you each gifts in advance!"

With a snap of the boy's fingers, an ebony box appeared, opening up to reveal seven vials each with a worn Latin label that said what was inside.

_Superbia. _

_Gula. _

_Invidia. _

_Luxuria. _

_Avaritia. _

_Acedia. _

_Ira._

Each little vial contained the seven cardinal deadly sins; the ones that would seal a person's fate in Hell for all eternity. Damien was well educated in the art of dark magic and sins, so he was well aware of the fact that a concentrated amount of any one sin could lead to a human's self destruction and eternal damnation. But now it was time to test it out.

Damien grabbed the first vial, taking out the one labelled '_Superbia_', his smirk widening as he saw the murky violet cloud inside.

"Pride," Damien announced, "Now who will get the first sin of the night? It was the one of Lucifer, you know. Any takers for the sin that will make them completely proud? You'll never be wrong, by your standards! The virtue of self respect can truly be embraced, now how wants to be proud?"

Only the crackle of the hellfire and the faint screams of tortured souls filled the air, not a single one of the images in the fire able to answer. Even though Damien knew there wouldn't be a response, he still frowned.

"Hmmm...I suppose I'll choose for you then..." He muttered, looking at each of the seven, "And I...choose..." His eyes locked on the 'proudest' of the bunch, using the boy's religious pride as an excuse to give him such a sin, "_Kyle..."_

The devil boy aimed the vial at the Jew's image and opened it, popping off the cork to release a mauve spirit. The sinful spirit shot out of the glass, headed straight for the redhead's image, travelling through his likeness in the flames, turning the picture purple as the spirit vanished, using it as a portal to travel to the peaceful Broflovski home.

* * *

Kyle slept gently in his bed, breathing softly as he rested his head on the soft pillow. He wasn't dreaming tonight, simply frozen in a blissful state of slumber. He knew not of the purple cloud that entered his room, not noticing the proud spirit loom over him with an ominous glow.

The spirit, after completely shadowing the Jew's bed, rushed down in a gust of wind, whipping the boy's face as the entity morphed into him, the purple fazing through the pale skin until there wasn't a trace left in his room.

"WHAT THE-?" Kyle shot up, the gust of cold wind disturbing his sleep. Something about that _did not_ feel right. He glanced around, checking every part of his room for something that may have been off, only to conclude that everything was just fine.

Everything except _him_. He just felt...odd. Yet, nothing else was wrong...

_That's strange..._ Kyle thought, rubbing his eyes, _Hell I even shut the window..._ He paused to glance at the digital clock on his nightstand, catching a glimpse of '3:28 AM' lit in bright green across the screen.

"Mmm..." The redhead groaned, leaning back against the mattress, "Well...maybe it's just..." He let out a yawn, "My...imagination...yeah..."

Without even knowing what had happened, Kyle went back to sleep, unaware of his new pride boost or of his new grim fate.

* * *

"Envy! Anyone of you for envy?" Damien asked the other images, "The green-eyed monster can be inside one of you, courtesy of Leviathan!" The ruby eyes of the boy flickered over to the black-haired girl, "Why, Wendy, I think you look perfect for such a sin..."

He reached into the box, pulling out the vial labelled '_Invidia'_ and shaking the hazy olive spirit inside. Just as he had done when assigning Kyle with pride, he aimed the vial at Wendy before opening it, the green spirit rushing through her face, tinting her with green as it travelled from Hell up to South Park, headed for the Testaburger home.

* * *

Wendy slept bundled in a mountain of wool lavender blankets, snuggled up to her pillow and hugging her prized stuffed unicorn Stan one for her at the last Cow Days fair. Her mind drifted in a better place, thinking of her boyfriend she loved with all her heart and imagining some of how she hoped life would be in the future. There always was the fact that you don't typically marry your high school sweetheart; but Wendy didn't really give a crap. She may have had her sights set on Harvard and other Ivy Leagues after graduation—which wasn't for another year or so—but she was still planning on Stan at least getting a scholarship so she wouldn't go alone.

However, her blissful dreaming was to be disrupted, a green cloud oozing through the ajar window and sneaking over to Wendy's bed. The green mist slipped under the sheets, searching for the warm human form of the dark haired girl with a pink beret, the spirit seeping through her skin and filling the girl with envy without her knowledge.

In her sleep, Wendy shuddered, tossing back and forth as goosebumps covered her skin, body alarmed by the supernatural force that had invaded. However, she didn't wake up, simply remaining rigid for a moment, her body checking for a way to fight off this alien force, only for her to relax when there was no way to fight it off. The sin had become one with her; there was no going back.

* * *

The next vial from Damien's chest was one filled with a dark azure spirit that swirled inside its glass constraints. In the same elegant script that was scribbled on all the labels, the word '_Luxuria'_ was written. He knew just who was getting _that_ sin.

"Lust, by the power of Asmeodeus," Damien said, "Goes rightfully to the one with the biggest sex drive..." He turned his attention to the blond in the orange parka, "Kenny, you get this by a unanimous voting."

_POP!_ The cork was off; the blue spirit zooming through the portal of the poor boy's head, ready to be the never ending fodder to an already monstrous sex drive.

* * *

Loud snores filled Kenny's room, the blond deep in sleep as a dreadful blue cloud formed at his window. There was no way for the boy to notice anything, his head to far in his dreams to pay attention.

"Mmmh..." He lazily muttered as the spirit neared, "Y-yeah baby...Don't worry if it's ya first time..." He rolled over, "Scream, babe, let it out, but I gotcha, ya know...Hmmm...Yeah..."The obnoxious snoring resumed once again.

The spirit certainly knew it was in the right place, taking that unconscious rambling if wet dreams as a sign that _that_ was the one to be infected.

Through the blond's open mouth, the spirit went down, slithering down Kenny's throat and then spreading through his body, violent shudders shaking him in his slumber.

"H-h-hey honey..." Kenny murmured, thinking it was all just a rough spot of the dream, "S'ok...Shh...No need to fucking shake the bed...Errything's gonna be...fine..."

He had no idea how wrong he was.

* * *

"My father is personally acquainted with this one," Damien said, holding up the vial for '_Ira_' that had a crimson sin contained inside, "Wrath..." The boy's ruby eyes shot immediately over to the wrathful racist bigot that seemed fit for taking on such a sin, "Cartman, you already are a raging bull...I'm sure that a little more wouldn't cause too much damage..."

_POP!_ The crimson spirit rushed to the image of Eric Cartman, course set for the fat boy's bedroom.

"Oh wait..." Damien smirked, "It _will_ cause more damage! AHA!"

* * *

As Eric Cartman clung tightly to Clyde Frog, deafening snores leaving his mouth as a bit of drool dribbled down his face. Like his other 'friends', he was unaware that a spirit was coming for him, his sleep unbroken by the random formation of the red puff in the corner of his room.

His thoughts were far too focused on yet another dream in which he humiliated Kyle completely and ended up getting a load of women and KFC, laughing as the Jew sobbed his eyes out over his complete defeat before getting hit by a car along with Kenny who just happened to cross the street at the wrong time. It was a wonderful dream, so why would he bother with waking up and noticing the crimson mist lurching over him?

The spirit didn't see Cartman making his move, seizing the opportunity and engulfing the tubby boy, encircling him in an aura of wrath before morphing through him.

Eric stirred in his sleep, making a few whines and groans, the wrath entering him sparking him to get an upset stomach in his break.

_Goddammit, gimme more Colonel!_ He grumbled in his dream, _I did not just humiliate Jewrat only to have my fried cheeken cut off! ASSHOLES! Screw you guys! I'm going home!

* * *

_

"Hmm...I seem to be leaning on some of my last few sins..." Damien sighed, pulling out the next vial, _Avaritia_. The dark-haired on smiled at the cloudy lemony colour of the spirit in the vial, already having a feeling who he'd give the next one too, "Mammon's Greed is next, and I think I know a certain cheerleader who'd be perfect..."

Once the cork was off, the golden yellow spirit headed for Bebe, a sickly yellow tinge coming to her picture in the fire as the greed left for the Stevens residence.

* * *

Bebe slumbered peacefully in her bed, perfectly at ease with her mind dancing in her fantasy of shoes and boys. She was known to act a tad shallow and slutty at times, but at heart she did know what was right...she just loved to have a good time was all. Besides, what was a better place to imagine having fun than in her own dreams?

However, as she slept, a yellow mist drifted through the air of her room, all of the greed slowly going from the atmosphere and into the sleeping blonde.

Bebe shook, feeling her skin crawl as, for a moment, her dreams stopped being wonderful and awesome and became...black...just black...

She was confused a long moment, tempted to wake up from that weird sudden pause in her dreams, though everything resumed before she could regain consciousness, the invasion of the spirit ending up being shrugged off as just an odd thing that happened in the night and nothing she had to be concerned about.

* * *

"Two of you left now..." Damien said, pawing around in the chest as he looked between the only two figures not tinted with sin, "Let's see what our next option is, shall we?"

He grasped another vial, yanking out one that contained a misty cyan sin. On the label, the word '_Acedia'_ was written.

"Sloth," He said, "Now, Belphegor created this as the desire of rest and the lack of drive to do work..." A sparkle came to his eyes when he looked at Mr. Sports Star, "And that includes sports...So, I think you can take a little break Stan..."_POP!_ "You're sports career can go on hold for a while..."

* * *

Stan slept solidly, everything in his room completely still as his chest rose and fell with every deep breath. Did he know of Damien's scheme? Not at all. Was he thinking at all of Hell or sins or sloth? Those were the farthest things from his mind, really. He was just asleep, somewhere where he could escape his idiotic parents and the other assholes of the world, and somewhere where no one could reach him.

Little did he realise the danger he was in, for the spirit which had travelled through the portal in hell was swirling in a menacing circle around him as he slumbered, the spirit surveying the athletic boy carefully before rushing into him in a gust, filling his muscles with peace and relaxation.

Although the cold air did tempt him to awaken and check on what was going on, he felt slightly _more_ relaxed after the gust hit him. If anything, the teen fell deeper into sleep, already falling a victim to the sin that was going to corrupt him.

* * *

"_Gula_..." Damien sighed, pulling out the last vial, staring at the tangerine coloured spirit a bit sadly, wishing that there were more sins he could unleash, "Beelzebub's good old gluttony is our final sin... Looks like Butters is just going to be wanting a bit more of everything now..."

The final cork popped, the last of the spirits breaking free and headed for South Park.

* * *

Butters slept soundly, smiling in his sleep as his usual happy mood was even more elated in his dream world. He was the creator for the reason, after all.

But, one thing Butters didn't create—and would never want to—was the damned cloud that was coming towards him at full speed, the spirit wanting to get in so badly there wasn't going to be any ominous lingering as the teenager slept.

"Oh jeez..." The blond jumped in his sleep, somehow remaining unconscious as the gluttony raced through his veins. The sudden sinful rush, as it died down, only lulled the boy deeper into sleep, the new corruption inside him happy to find a practically pure home to destroy.

* * *

In the depths of Hell, a place of despair and misery, Damien stood with the largest grin in the world plastered onto his face, dropping the last vial on the ground with the other six.

All seven of the deadly sins were released, ready to spread havoc through the little mountain town in Colorado that was the cause of much of his grief, the seven people he held most responsible having their fates sealed as future residents of the damned land.

And he was damn proud.

"Now..." Damien sighed, "I just need to sit back and watch..." Cold, dark chuckles left his throat, his irises glowing bright crimson as he cackled over the flames' crackles.

He knew he'd be in for _quite_ a show.

* * *

**A/N: Phew! Glad I got that all out. Y-yeah, I wasn't gonna start this for a while...but I was reading over Possession {since I think the only fanfiction I've ever really _read_ was Courtanie's...Ehehe} and...I guess the inspiration just came. Kinda funny, eh? Well I wasn't wasting it, so I got up at three in the morning and wrote until -glances at clock- 7:35 AM. Wow I am so lucky no one caught me up or I'd be dead since I got a shiteload of work xDD;;**

**Blah blah, sorry I talk about myself. Anyway, I feel like I should say now that Damien is a bit...harsh right now. You'll see why later! But don't underestimate the son of the devil, gaiz. And I kinda got lazy towards the end and was all "RAAAAAAAAWR" so that's why you can see how I gradually got less in depth. That and I kinda went from characters I work with a lot/write a lot to ones I don't write as much with/dislike.**

**Alright...I have no idea when this would get an update. It's honestly up to you guys. So R&R! _Seriously_ you do not know how happy your reviews make me. Sometimes they can get me so happy I write like...entire chapters based off the hype. Of course I have other updates and all that and life has to get in the way but if you want more, say something! **

**And if you wanna ask about pairings...Erm...I kinda don't entirely know myself. I mean I kinda do, but at the same time there may be additional ones or knocking off a few. I suppose I can say that all the pairs I usually write are gonna be in here...though there may be some more too. **

**Pfff, I talk way way too much. Your turn! So leave a review and all that bullshit and um...yeah. :D Ineedmoresleepl-lol. ~CQO**


	2. Slow Start

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

The alarm clock on the ebon boy's nightstand blared, alerting the sleepy teenager that morning had come, bringing on another dull, dreary Monday morning of high school. Grey clouds hung in the Colorado sky, blocking out the sun to add to the weekend's funeral and arrival of the most dreaded day of the week. The short-lived weekend was dead, and it was time for Stan to wake up, get his things, and spend another seven hours of 'learning' at high school.

"Urgh..." Stan moaned yanking the covers over his head, "Shut up..." His muscles felt like jelly when he moved, wanting to stay right where they were. The beeps of the alarm clock rang in the boy's head, taunting his slow moving mind to no end. All he wanted to do was have everything go back to silence so he could stay wrapped in the covers and rest.

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

Stan, with as much energy as he could muster, reached a hand out from under the sheets, groping around on the end table for the damned alarm clock that kept beeping endlessly. His fingers wiggled around, acting as feelers as he searched blindly for the clock. He stretched his arm to try and reach the sleep button, knocking the lamp a bit to the side and sending his cell phone and inhaler on the floor with a muffled clatter.

Finally he felt the sleek plastic buttons on his fingertips, giving him a way to stop the blasted blaring. Stan balled his hand into a fist before pounding down on the buttons, trying to smash the device (or at least pound the right button pretty hard).

_BEEP! THUNK! BEEEP! THUNK! BE—THUNK!_

"Ah..." The dark-haired boy sighed, his arms slithering back beneath the covers, "Thank God..." _Now where was I?_ He thought, closing his eyes and becoming one with the mattress once more.

Just as his eyelids shut, a loud hammering started beating at his door, creating a new nuisance to prevent the teen from falling back asleep.

"SSTAN!" Shelly hissed from the other side of the door. She just had to have stayed home and gone to the community college instead of leaving for some far off state school, "GET THE FUCK UP, TURD!"

"GRAH!" He buried his face in his pillow, trying to morph into material and stay in bed. Even though he'd gotten a good night's sleep, he didn't want it to be over. And he especially didn't want to go into school when he could stay home and rest.

"TURD! GET UP! MOM WANTS YOU DOWN SSTAIRS!" Shelly snarled. Even though she'd finally ditched the headgear after years of a metal muzzle, she still had a snake's lisp. In Stan's opinion, that perfectly matched her venomous temper.

"GO AWAY YA STUPID BITCH!" Stan growled, his voice tipping off that he was still deathly tired.

There was a long silence.

"Yeah I told her..." Stan mumbled triumphantly to himself, rubbing his cheek on the cushy pillow as a victory gesture, "She can't make me—"

_CHINK! CREEEEAK...!_

Shelly, using the age old bobby bin trick, unlocked her little brother's door, giving her access to his room. Even from under the covers Stan could see his sister's eyes burning with azure rage, a site that would make just about anyone shot their pants.

"Fuck..." Stan whispered into the pillow.

"_TUUUUUUUUUUUUUURD_!" His sister roared, charging in and pouncing on top of the lump in the covers.

"AGH!" Stan moaned, his sister crushing his spinal cord when she landed.

"GET THE FUCK OUTTA BED PRICK!" She barked, slamming her fists down on the boy beneath the Terrance and Philip sheets, each loud _THWACK_ adding another bruise to Stan's back. And he thought he'd be used to Shelly's beatings after joining the football team.

"GAAH! OW! OW! OW!" He squirmed under the sheets, trying to get his muscles moving so he could dodge the blows. The fatigue sitting in his entire body hampered his attempts.

"I SSAID GET UP TURD! YOU HAVE SSCHOOL!" Shelly snapped, her fist hitting the back of Stan's neck.

"AHHH!" Pain surged through him, though even that wouldn't give him an energy boost, "SHELLY STOP!"

Shelly snatched a handful of sheet, ripping the blanket from over Stan's head. She grabbed her brother's shoulders, yanking him upward even though he didn't bend that way. "UP!"

"MOOOOOOOM!" Stan yelled, hoping his mother would hear his cries and rescue him from the crazy psycho bitch trying to turn him into a pretzel.

Shelly pushed Stan back down on the mattress, holding his head down while she got to her feet. Stan kept thrashing around, suffocating and too tired to gather the strength needed to overpower his sister. Either Shelly got stronger overnight or he was just worn out.

Shelly flipped her brother like a pancake, looming over him with a death glare. As the boy gasped for air, he was terrified by the gleam in his sister's eyes and the way her frizzy toffee hair looked like that of a mental patient. Stan was still pretty sure Shelly _was_ a mental patient, though; but that didn't make her any less terrifying.

"Are you getting up now, turd?" She asked, grasping her brother's collar and yanking him up forcefully. Anger flared up in her eyes, serving as a warning that she /would/ lash out and beat him further if he said no.

"Y-yeah..." Stan slowly nodded, trembling where he lay. The soreness of the bruises intensified as he stared into his abuser's eyes.

"GOOD," She said, "Because Mom and Dad are busy and if you miss your bus I am NOT driving you to sschool."

"Yes m'am," Stan nodded.

"Ugh..." The brunette released her clasp on the raven-haired boy's shirt, letting his sore back plop on the mattress, "Stupid turd..." She'd gotten her point across and did her job; she wasn't keen on doing anything else to help her baby brother. The girl whipped around and trudged right out the way she entered, footsteps booming until she went downstairs.

Stan let out a sigh, happy to have survived all that. _Why couldn't she just live at her boyfriend's or something? _He thought, stretching his arms before propping himself up. His body was sore AND tired, feeling more like it would after a football practice rather than after a good night's sleep. _Then again, Shelly's not too far off from Middle Park..._

He carefully got out of bed, a simple task that was so difficult today. He nearly couldn't get up at all, and once he did, he wanted to lay right back down.

_Damn… She beat all the energy right outta me… _He was sure that gravity had altered during the night, trying to pull him down as though his muscles were made from lead. His gaze switched to his feet on the floor, half expecting to see that Eric came in during the night, stolen his feet to donate to science or some such thing, and then replaced them with blocks of metal.

As far as he could tell, he hadn't physically changed from before he went to bed the night before. His feet were still attached to his legs, he was still dressed in the same blue pyjamas rather than a chain-mail tunic, and he still felt like going to bed. The fact that _that_ hadn't changed was his biggest concern.

_Maybe I'll get some coffee on my way to the bus stop… _He thought with a yawn, feeling every muscle in his body trying to use the yawn as an excuse to lax and force Stan to fall right back into bed.

"Stan!" Sharon Marsh, the boy's mother, called from downstairs, "Are you ready yet?"

_Ready?_ Stan glanced over at the clock. 6:32 AM; less than fifteen minutes until the bus' usual arrival time. And he was barely out of bed!

"I-in a minute, Mom!" He shouted, walking over to the closet like one of those clunky robots in old Twilight Zone reruns. Normally, he was in the kitchen eating cereal by that point in the morning, wide awake and ready for school (but still not too happy since it was still _school)_, but today he was just getting dressed!

_Maybe I'm sick…_ Stan shrugged off the PJ top after fumbling with through the unbuttoning process. He pulled a plain white t-shirt off a hanger, slowly pulling it over his head. Even something simple as that felt like twenty laps around the football field. _Might be…mono or something…Fuck am I even this exhausted after __**practice**__?_

He jimmied open one of the drawers in the closet, revealing three neat lines of folded boxers, jeans, and socks. Thankfully he didn't have too many choices—as if he cared much about what the hell he was grabbing to put on—so he could just scoop the three first choices off in the front. However, picking any of the clothes up was as easy as getting a plushie from a claw machine at the shifty carnival, operating a _crane_ was simpler than getting his arms to work!

"STANLEY MARSH!" Sharon yelled, "ARE YOU READY?" As a mother, Sharon was entitled to nag Stan—especially on slow Monday mornings—but Stan wished she didn't ask him the same question every two minutes.

_Wait...does it really take that long for a guy to throw on a new pair of boxers...?_ Was he always this slow? Or was time just moving faster? None of the questions could be answered; he wasn't moving fast enough to answer them, more focused on pulling up his jeans.

"STANLEY!"

"I'M COMING, MOM!" Stan shouted back, voice gargly and worn out. Was it always like that on a Monday morning? It was a _Monday_.

The raven haired boy, as quick as he could (which wasn't really that quick at all), scooped his phone off the ground, also grabbing his backpack and brown wool jacket from their usual places on the floor. Stan sluggishly made his way out of his room, slipping on his jacket on his way down stairs.

"Mom! Can you get me a cup of coffee to go?" He asked, slinging the backpack over his shoulder. He'd put it on properly at the bus stop.

"Alright, I'll try," He heard his mother say from the kitchen.

Stan finally reached the bottom of the stairs, looking like he hadn't slept a wink when he got all the rest teenagers supposedly needed. His jacket was open, his backpack was barely on, and he hadn't even gotten his hat. _Jesus Christ…_ He yawned; _The fuck is up with me?_

Sharon Marsh soon emerged from the kitchen, holding a plastic capped cup filled with Tweak's Coffee.

"Stan, where's your hat? Guh, you'll catch a cold without it! And button your shirt!" Whether her son was eight or eighteen he'd never be excused from motherly treatment.

"My hat?" Stan asked, taking the coffee in one hand and putting the other hand on his head. Instead of a woolly fabric feel, his fingers ran through soft clumps of choppy black hair, "Shit, I must've left it upstairs..."

"There's a spare one by the door," Sharon said, pushing the teen towards the exit, "Grab it on your way out and have a good day at school, sweetie."

Stan let himself be pushed, stumbling a bit but still managing to walk to the door. He spied a familiar looking navy and red hat hanging on one of the coat rack's hooks. He grabbed it by the poof-ball as his mother opened the door for him.

A brisk whip of air blew into the house, chilling Stan's chest under the thin cotton tee. He shuddered, gripping the coffee cup tighter to try and absorb some of the warmth.

"A cold front must be coming in..." The short-haired woman observed, still shoving her son out the door. She was talking more to herself than her child. "And the clouds mean it may snow..."

"That's great, Mom," Stan said, lopsidedly putting on his hat and hopping off the stoop, "Bye..."

"Bye, Stan!" Sharon waved. With a slam the door was shut, Mrs. Marsh still inside the house. She wasn't going to stand out in freezing weather to watch Stan walk down the sidewalk.

"God," Stan sighed, slowly starting down the walkway. He glanced at the coffee in his hand, the heat from the liquid keeping his arm from turning into ice. The scent of hazelnut drifted up from the hole in the top, tickling the boy's nostrils with the tempting promise of caffeine.

Considering how he was creeping through the morning, caffeine was just what he needed. _Maybe this'll get me moving…_ He thought, taking a long sip of the rather _hot_ drink.

"FUCK!" His tongue burned, the coffee scorching his taste buds. Stan was close to dropping the coffee, but he was sensible enough to know how important it was. It wouldn't be very helpful spilt all over the snow.

"Well ain't that a great thing to hear just as you're walkin' down to the bus stop." A familiar voice said.

"Kenny..." Stan looked down the driveway, peering past his father's Navigator.

The blond in the orange parka peeked out from the other side of the car, an extra shimmer to the sapphire blue eyes. Kenny usually didn't meet up with Stan until he was at the bus stop, always walking out of his house later than Stan after avoiding the usual drunken screaming and then hopping over the old train tracks. But today Stan was running a little late, so Kenny wouldn't be walking alone.

"Hey man," Kenny smirked, pulling his hood back some. After he discovered in eighth grade that he 'had one hell of a sexy face' that attracted even more girls, he started wearing the hood loosely outside and even putting it down inside.

"Morning, sunshine," Stan spoke with the same amount bitterness of his beverage. Despite his tone, he smiled a bit, happy to see one of his best friends (and know that he wouldn't be the only one to miss the bus if it was gone by the time they got there).

"So who ya fuckin'? Ain't cheating on Wendy now are ya?" As always, his tone was playful. No matter how many years ticked by, Kenny stayed the same; a childish loveable pervert.

"Well this coffee's fucking my taste buds till they get second degree burns," Stan replied, walking past his father's car, "So why are you so cheery? Fuck Britney Spears last night or something?"

"Pfff, I wish," Kenny rolled his eyes, "I'm just in a good mood this morning. He shrugged.

Stan stopped in front of his friend, staring up at him. Kenny had a good inch on him, though he was more on the lanky side. Living for years off hot water and bread tended to lead up to that. Still, Kenny managed to get through, whether it was because he was high, because he scored more often than any other guy in school, or because he just didn't give a fuck. Either way he came out on top and usually felt pretty cocky about it; though he still wasn't that cheery in the mornings. Something about him just seemed a little different—Stan could see it in his eyes—but he couldn't place what it was.

Then again, he was far too tired to think much without wanting to fall down and snooze in the snow. Just trying to come up with a reason why Kenny would normally be happy ended up taking a lot out of him! Ignoring his burning tongue, Stan took another sip of coffee, slurping it up like Sparky drinking water.

"Not to talkative, eh?" The blond looked down at his sleepy friend, "Dude did you get any fucking sleep?"

Stan nodded, the coffee in his mouth sloshing around before he gulped it down. "I did...I went to bed at 11, man. Slept all night..."

"Come on," Kenny grabbed Stan by the arm and started dragging him towards the bus stop. Even if Kenny took joy in skipping school, he knew they couldn't mill in front of the Marsh house all day. Plus, he wanted to at least see his other two best friends (more best friend and asshole who had nothing else to do but harass them) before they left for a day of boring old classes.

Stan mechanically walked as he was dragged, moving like the groggy zombie he was.

"Mmm..." The dark-haired boy groaned, taking another gulp of coffee. The caffeine had yet to kick in but it at least sent heat through his body. He really should button his shirt.

"Well were your dreams fucked up or somethin'?" Kenny asked, letting go once Stan was moving on his own, "Or are ya stoned?"

"I'm not stoned and I didn't have any dreams," Stan grumbled, "I'm just tired..."

"Ya sick?" Kenny glanced over at Stan. He may not have always been able to read atmospheres but he usually could read people when he was paying attention. Stan looked like a _wreck_.

"Maybe..." He muttered, "I unno, dude, I just feel crappy."

"Well that sucks ass, Stanny," Kenny said. Comforting people never was his forte.

"Thanks for the support, dickhead," He narrowed his eyes at the other.

"I ain't a Hallmark card! I'm pretty shitty at sympathy, you know that." _Come to think of it, you guys usually give me the sympathy cards... Like you've got any memories of it..._

"Yeah, yeah, don't think I forgot how you told Butters 'Sorry your Pop's a homo' when that blew out." The Stotch family grew pretty stressed after the public found Chris' membership to a gay bathhouse (Butters said he told his mother years ago but she assumed he stopped going there after nearly killing her child).

"Well his dad IS a homo!" Kenny shouted, "What the fuck am I supposed to tell the little faggot?"

"Anything but THAT! He started crying!" Stan pointed out.

"Well he's a pussy and he was gonna start sobbing anyway." The blond rolled his eyes again. He didn't think too highly of the happy-go-lucky baby-face.

"Asshole," Stan muttered, then took another sip.

"Well he just started sobbing on Cartman. Ya gotta admit that was a knee-slapper," Kenny said, "Besides, I'm not always an insensitive jackass."

"Your right," Stan agreed, "You're just one most of the time."

"Exact—_HEY!_" He frowned, "How about Ky's little seizure fit in seventh grade? Huh? Remember that field trip to the nature preserve? I went with him to the goddamn hospital after he hit a low cause his insulin was at home and I stuck by 'im the whole time."

"I was there too..." Stan muttered, remembering that trip clearly.

"Yeah, and what did ya do?" Kenny asked, answering himself before Stan could even absorb the question, "I believe ya came visiting a couple hours later 'cause someone was gettin' friendly with his girlfriend in the woods instead of stayin' with his bros."

Stan didn't reply at first, simply taking another slurp of coffee. That was one of his most hated memories because he was a complete dick then. His super best friend needed him, and Stan was just thinking about what colour panties he'd be taking off Wendy. Kyle was fine and Kenny really did save the day (Stan was sure Kenny was a bit too happy to have saved Kyle), but that didn't change the fact that Stan was nowhere to be found when Kyle was seeing flashing lights. And bringing back that memory didn't improve his morale.

Kenny waited for the ebon boy to speak again, only to come to the conclusion that Stan was pissed off and didn't want to talk. He couldn't blame Stan—it was a dick move to use that against him—and he only managed to justify the points against him. _Aw fucker... Why am I such an asshat sometimes?_ Kenny asked himself, letting out a sigh.

"Stanny, I'm sorry," He said lowly, gaze switching to the sidewalk, "I'm a total dick."

"Yeah, I know," Stan said. Though, after a moment, he smiled, "But that's why we love ya."

"No homo, right?" Kenny snapped his head back up with a smirk, switching back to his default kiddish perv mode, "I think Wendy would fuck up my pretty face if she found out. Well, that or beg for a threesome since I make any sex better."

"Go fuck yourself, man!" Stan lightly elbows Kenny, jabbing him weakly in the ribs.

"Ow..." He bit his lip. Stan was not only the stronger one (not like Kenny was a weakling, he just wasn't a jock) but also the one who had a habit of nailing his bruises. The blond wasn't sure who beat him more, his father or his friend, "Watch it, Stanny. I need my goods in one piece so the ladies can get some."

"All you need is your dick, man, that's what ya think with anyway," Stan teased, looking ahead of them to see where they were.

The residential homes were all behind them, only tall evergreens surrounding them. The long ash asphalt stretched out beside them, leading to downtown South Park where all the shops and work places were centred. In the distance, the ancient bus stop sign sat. The wood pole was petrified by the cold while the sign faded a bit, turning a lighter shade of gold. Standing next to the old sign, alone in the cold and book in hand, was a short, thin, rather pale boy that Stan and Kenny knew well.

"KYLE!" They called in unison.

Kyle glanced up from his book, emerald eyes catching site of his two closest friends. A smile curved on his lips, glad that he wasn't going to stand there waiting alone (or worse yet alone with _Cartman_).

"Where the hell have you two been?" Kyle asked, dog-earing the page he left off on and closing his novel, "And Stan what happened to you?"

"Urgh..." Stan groaned, needing another coffee intake before saying anything.

"Stanny's got zombieism," Kenny answered, grinning wider as they neared the daywalker, "That or some form of vampirism. He vants to suuuck your...COFFEE!" He flailed his hands in the air, pretending to turn into a bat to match the cheesy Transylvanian accent.

"As long as he doesn't sparkle, I'm fine with it," Kyle mused, "But, seriously, dude, you look like you barely got outta bed this morning."

"Well you're right there," Stan mumbled, "I probably woulda stayed there if Shelly didn't beat the shit outta me and Mom didn't gimme this," He shook his coffee cup, hearing the half filled cup's contents slosh around.

"Coffee?" Kyle asked. Stan nodded. "And Shelly beat you up?"

"She never stopped," Stan reminded him, "Remember my sister's a violent bitch."

"I thought she'd calm down by the time she got into college..." Kyle said.

"I thought she'd leave the house when he got into college but she's still living with us," Stan cynically spat, "Fuck you, South Park Community, fuck you..." He started taking another sip of coffee.

"Ya know ya can always have me try and calm her down," Kenny joked, "I do like it _rough_..."

Stan's eyes widened, immediately spitting out the coffee and spraying it all over the snow next to Kyle.

"Watch it!" Kyle hopped out of the way, not wanting brown stains all over his nice orange jacket or his lime green ushanka.

"DUDE!" Stan gave Kenny a disgusted look, "SHE'S MY SISTER! THAT IS _NOT COOL_!"

"Jesus Christ I was kidding," Kenny snickered, "Or was I?"

"DON'T EVEN JOKE ABOUT THAT! THAT'S JUST SICK!" The ebon boy shuddered.

"It's a bit early to be horny, isn't it, Kenny?" Kyle asked.

"I was _born_ horny, Ky," Kenny said, "Whatcha readin' anyway?"

"Hmm?" Kyle looked down at his book, "Just reading _Daniel's Story_..."

"Holocaust book?" Kenny cocked a brow. By then Stan calmed down and was interested as well. "Don't those things usually get you...emotional?"

Kyle shrugged.

"Kyle, you had nightmares for a good month after reading _Night_," Stan said, "Why the fuck are you reading that?"

"I don't know..." Kyle admitted, "I...I needed a book to read... And I found it on the bookshelf since my Dad reads this stuff sometimes... So here I am reading it now."

"Dude, just get a new book from the library," Kenny cautioned, "Or you'll get scarred for life or something."

"Yeah, man, you couldn't've read every book in the library yet..." Stan added.

"Don't treat me like I'm four," Kyle frowned, "Honestly, you both need to calm down. So I want to look into something out of my usual comfort zone? So what?"

"You scare easily, man," Stan said.

"Well you know, I'm _not_ scared and I actually think it's good that I'm reading this," He had an as-a-matter-of-fact tone coating his words, "I should be proud of those of my faith who endured the worst at the hands of the Nazis."

"SHHH! DON'T SAY THAT!" Kenny switched to a loud hushed whispery voice.

"Why not?" Kyle said.

"OR ELSE COMRADE FATASS WILL APPEAR!" Kenny acted as though he was scared to death, biting back the urge to burst into laughter.

"He'll show up anyway," Stan deadpanned. Meanwhile, Kyle rolled his eyes.

"Speaking of which, where _is_ the fatass? He's usually here harassing us and making shitty jokes by now." The redhead said, glancing around. He may have hated Eric with a burning passion, but that didn't mean he wouldn't wonder about where he was. If anything, the fact that he didn't know where he was could be considered a danger. The old game of Nazi and Jew could only go on for so long before the World War ended. And these days, Cartman was considered slightly more lethal than he was as a pudgy eight year-old (mainly because he had _strength_ under that flab while Kyle was a stick).

"Running late?" Stan said, knowing that everything seemed to be running a bit behind schedule, more so than the average Monday morning.

"Could be…" Kyle said, still looking around for his wicked enemy, "Still would help if we knew if he was skipping or not."

"Yeah, then we can rat him out so they can take 'im away from his precious Xbox and endless supply of ice cream," Kenny couldn't help but like that thought. One of the daily routines—aside from the usual Jew jokes—was the constant 'Poor boy' remarks. So in his mind it was perfectly fair to 'strip the fat fucker of the nice things he don't deserve'.

"Not to mention get him grounded," Kyle added cheerfully. He was so happy that after so long Liane was actually standing up to her son. It'd be a happy day when she took away ever pleasure her son had and left him to wallow in his own deserved misery cooped up in his bedroom.

_BVVVVVB! BVVVVVB! BVVVVVB!_

From inside Stan's jacket pocket, his cell phone vibrated. Even on vibrate his phone managed to be loud.

"Hmm? Phone…" He said, reaching to grab it and check who was trying to contact him. Seeing as Kenny and Kyle were already with him, that left three people who'd likely call him; though Kenny and Kyle were pretty sure who it was.

"Bitch alert," Kenny coughed, "Everyone back the fuck up!"

"Shut up," Stan snarled, shooting Kenny a dirty look before checking the crystallised blue screen.

'_Incoming call from Wendy Testaburger_.'

"It's her, right?" Kyle could recognize the look that came across Stan's face. They were best friends; he wasn't that hard to read.

"I gotta take this…" The dark-haired boy said, flipping open the phone.

"Told ya," Kenny sniggered.

Stan glared at the blond, elbowing him in the side to get him to stop laughing. Kenny groaned, and then inched closer to Kyle so he could laugh at a 'respectable' distance (and use Kyle as a defence shield if need be since there was no way Stan would ever hurt Kyle).

"Hey babe," Stan spoke into the cell's microphone. Even electronically the tiredness was still evident.

"Stan," Wendy's voice came through the speaker, speaking loud enough for even Kyle and Kenny to hear her clearly, "Stan where the hell are you?"

"Bus stop..." Stan couldn't help but be suspicious of her tone. Was she distressed? Or pissed? His brain could scarcely tell what sort of emotion it was, too many available to choose from. Anger, sad, in trouble...weren't they all the same? "Are you okay?"

"Fine," She curtly answered. Even Stan could tell that was a lie.

"You don't sound fine..." He frowned, "Why'd you call?"

"I just wanted to know why you weren't at school yet," Wendy said.

"Sounds like someone wants her early morning mouthful of dick," Kenny muttered.

"SHUT UP!" Stan barked.

"Who's that? Who's with you? What'd they say?" Her questions came in a quick, jumpy manner, no room in between for Stan to answer any of them, "Is it Kenny? Or Kyle? Or Cartman? Maybe Butters? It's not a girl right? Who are you at the bus stop with?"

"Wendy calm down!" Stan was positive something was wrong. Why was Wendy so jumpy? She sounded like she was going to transport through the airwaves and crawl out the speaker like some rip off of _The Ring_, "I'm just with Kenny and Kyle. That was just Kenny being a jerk-off as always and he was just making more fucking remarks," He took a moment to glower at the blond. Kenny smiled innocently, prompting soft chuckles from the Jewish boy next to him. It was fairly entertaining, after all.

"Oh...what kind of fucking remarks?" Wendy sounded even more interested than before.

"What?" Usually all Stan would have to say was that Kenny was joking around and Wendy got the message that he was making random pervert jokes. But why did she want to know exactly what he said today? Half the time Wendy would roll her eyes at him for making a crude remark and disregard it completely. "You're...you're kidding right? You hate half his sex jokes."

"So it was about _sex_?" There was a cutting edge to the word.

"Wendy, you've known Kenny for years, what isn't about sex with him?" Stan stated, "He was just making jokes about us. You know, like he usually does."

There was a silence over the phone.

"...Okay," She finally muttered.

"Hey, do you wanna talk about something?" Stan normally wasn't the type to want to talk things out—only if things were bad or if it was a last resort to save a break up—but this seemed important. Whatever it was.

"I-I'm fine, Stan!" Wendy stammered, "Just get to school soon, I haven't seen you since Friday night... I miss you."

"I miss you too, babe," Stan yawned, "Stay calm, the bus should be coming soon. If I had a _car_ I'd be there by now..." Or he would have crashed it while trying to drive and sleep at once.

"I wish your dad would just let you buy one already! You got your licence! And it's important that you have a mode of transportation that isn't the school bus or something!" Randy decided that he _wasn't_ buying Stan a car and that, even if Stan earned the money, he couldn't get one. The main reason for that was because he trashed their old Lexus (which was secretly going to be Stan's 'new car') learning how to drive. He wasn't even sure how the hell his son passed the test.

"Well my dad's an asshole and doesn't want me getting my own car," Stan still thought he deserved one, but he technically did have the licence, "And my bike's completely busted so I can't use that, so you'll need to wait until the bus clunks into the loop before I can see ya again."

"Yeah... I still hope you get here soon." Just from the way her voice sounded, Stan could picture his ebony beauty standing in front of him, pouting her cherry lips just slightly and giving him a big pair of hazel puppy dog eyes, ready to call him all the stereotypical pet names most guys couldn't stand unless they really loved their girlfriend and ready to cling to him like a sloth to a tree.

"Yeah...hey, the bus is coming," Stan glanced down the road. There was no sign of the yellow rust-bucket, but what Wendy couldn't see wouldn't hurt her, "As long as the traffic's okay, we'll be there in a few minutes," By traffic, he meant that there weren't ducks crossing the street or that the traffic light was working correctly.

"Great! I'll be waiting by our lockers!" Wendy cheered, "Love you!"

"I love you too..." Stan would never understand the bipolarity of the female race, "See ya, Wendy."

"Bye!" With a smooch to the phone, Wendy hung up, leaving Stan to listen to the cyber droll of a dead cell line.

"PFFFFF!" Kenny broke into boisterous chortles, "Dude, she's got you _SO_ whipped!"

"Grrr..." Stan growled, shoving his phone back in his jacket pocket, "You're a fucking asshole."

"Kenny's just being Kenny," Kyle pointed out, rolling his eyes at the blond in hysterics, "So what do you think she's worried about?"

"I dunno..." Stan sighed, shifting his gaze to the fluffy white snow that covered the ground, "I mean, she sounded funny..."

"Almost like she thought you were up to something," Kyle finished Stan's thought, sharing his brainwaves, "You don't think she thought you were cheating on her or some such thing, do you?"

"What? Why the hell would she think that?" Stan looked at Kyle, tilting his head, "I mean, I only really hang out with her...and I love her and stuff..."

"'And I love her and stuff' yeah, that sounds sincere," Kyle rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean," Stan said, "I've been with her for years...on and off a little yeah...but still we've stuck through... Why would I cheat on her? Why would she even think that?" _She was usually the one to break up with me..._

"Well..." Kyle thought a moment. He hadn't really been in much of a relationship before, usually being the cute nerdy guy who caught the eye of some but still knew next to nothing about romance outside the classics, "She's just...precautious? That does sound a lot like Wendy."

"Nah," Kenny's laughter died down, calm enough to speak again, "She's just being a chick. Chicks try to find shit wrong with guys. If everything's perfect, chicks always gotta ruin it or find something wrong with it. They'll think a fucker gets high too much, or looks at too much internet porn, or doesn't have a big enough dick, or talks to too many other chicks. Usually they'll use it as an excuse to break it off or they'll just use it to be super bitchy and control everything. Now since Stanny here is basically a puppy on Miss Testie's chain, she's freaking out because she thinks that something's wrong anyway. There's always somethin' wrong with 'em even if they gotta make shit up about it. S'all in their heads." He nodded, pointing to his skull as he did so.

"Kenny, that is the most retarded thing you've said all week," Stan rolled his eyes.

"Actually...it makes...some sense..." Kyle admitted, "At least in some of the books I've read that's happened before... The female character is just overly picky and over protective of keeping her spouse that she worries herself into thinking that the women passing by are secretly sleeping with him a—"

"That only happens in stories, Kyle," Stan coldly said, "It doesn't happen to girls. At least not ones like Wendy."

"It happens to all chicks, Stanny," Kenny said.

"_Especially_ ones like Wendy," Kyle added, "Have you ever read—"

"Oh look, the bus!" Stan cut the redhead off, not up for a literary parallel before school. Sure enough, the old yellow bus came rolling down the road, moving at its usual snail pace.

"Let me finish next time..." Kyle bitterly muttered, glowering at Stan. He'd gotten cut off from his scholarly parallels before—he knew it had to have been annoying sometimes for the class geek to tell the jock how the Lion King was just like Hamlet or how the school's social hierarchy was similar to bastard feudalism—and he usually felt bad for babbling on up until that point. But this time he was sort of pissed about not finishing, more focused on the fact that he couldn't complete his argument than the stupid bus coming. For once, he actually had the desire to _flaunt_ his knowledge.

_Wait... it's just a parallel...no big deal... _He told himself, trying to push the urge away as the bus stopped in front of the boys, _I don't need to show off...necessarily... Plus it's just Stan... he's probably a bit too thick headed right now to even care about the parallel anyway...Though he probably should._

The doors opened, letting the boys all file in. Stan was the first, trudging up the steps and giving the Mexican driver a morning grunt before sipping more of his coffee. He went straight to the back of the bus, taking the single seat that was usually Eric's claim and relaxing in the sinkhole seat.

"Come on, Ky," Kenny said, motioning the redhead to follow him up the steps, "Ya wanna go to school right?"

Kyle blinked a few times, snapping out of his thoughts. "Coming, Ken," He said, scurrying up the steps, nearly bumping into the blond in front of him.

_That was weird..._ He thought as he walked, staring at his feet _Fucking Monday... probably just didn't get that good of a night's sleep last night... I did wake up and all... Though there isn't anything wrong with being a little happy with yourself... Gah, why am I even having this mental argument?_

_BONK!_

Kyle didn't notice when Kenny slid into the seat opposite Stan's, blindly walking into the emergency door and smashing his face into the glass.

A chorus of sneering laughter came from the rest of the bus.

Stan and Kenny peeked up over their seats, giving everyone else a stern 'Shut the fuck up or else' stare. No one picked on Kyle and got away with it (save for Cartman, but that was just Cartman).

The sniggers faded, everyone returning to the usual morning murmurs of rumours and what happened over the weekend and all the typical teenage talk.

"Sit here, Kyle," Kenny said, scooting over to give Kyle some room, pressing his back to the icy metal wall of the bus.

"Thanks..." Kyle murmured, rubbing his nose and taking a seat, "Well, at least Fatass isn't showing up today." He could only imagine the roars of laughter that would've echoed through the bus if Eric had been there.

"Yeah, looks like," Stan said, sinking even more in the seat that usually was Cartman's, "I'm...I'm just gonna rest my eyes for a bit..."

"Kay," Kenny said, "We'll wake ya up if ya fall asleep before we get there."

Stan gave him a worn thumbs-up before resting his head against the window, shutting his eyes. He heard the engine grumble, the entire vehicle vibrating as it came back to life. Then, the wheels started turning, the bus cruising down the road towards South Park High.

"Damn, Stanny's beat today," Kenny observed, the black-haired already unconscious to the point of drooling.

"I know..." Kyle said, "Say...did you notice anything funny last night?"

"Funny how?" Kenny raised a brow.

"I don't know..." The Semite sighed, leaning back in the cardboard massage chair of the bus seat, "It's just...kinda odd..."

"You too?" Kenny frowned. What was with everyone and being in such a downer mood? He woke up feeling so..._great_, yet Stan and Kyle were both muddling in some little pool of despair almost, "Jesus first Stan's bitching about things being weird and now you!"

"Well it's just... I woke up last night... And ever since I've felt a bit... Strange..." Kyle said, recalling his awakening the night before. He shrugged it off as a figment of his imagination, but something still lingered inside him.

"Ya know, I felt like shit last night," Kenny said bluntly, "Kevin clocked me a good one and Dad tried to hurl a fucking chair at my head. I went to bed and woke up feeling pretty fucking amazing and the fact that you guys all feel crappy ain't helpin' me stay in a good mood. Whatever it is, I betcha it's nothin'. Stanny's likely getting burned by all the football practices and I bet you're just gettin' paranoid about everything after reading that fucking Holocaust book."

"It's got nothing to do with what I'm reading!" Kyle shouted, "I'm not the only one acting funny anyway, you heard Wendy!"

"She's _Wendy_ though," The blond rolled his eyes; "She's got mood swings that make bipolarity look normal."

"She usually doesn't act like that though! I mean, come on, she wanted to know what perverted thing came outta your mouth!" He could feel something wrong; it was in the air. It was faint, but still there none the less.

"Kyle," Kenny placed his hands on the redhead's shoulders, leaning over to stare into the stressed green eyes, "_Calm. Down._ You are taking this too seriously. It's a shitty Monday morning, the weekend's over, and everyone's kinda bleh. We're all gonna feel funky unless ya woke up in a good mood like me. I'm just a lucky fucker and you're freaking out 'cause for once ya ain't the one to wake up immune to Mondays. They suck ass. Now stop stressing out over little shit things and try and get through the day without pissing your pants."

Kyle stared into Kenny's eyes a long moment, green gazing into sky blue. Kenny's words didn't make the bizarre hint in the air disappear, but it did make some logical sense. Kyle had overreacted before; so maybe he _was_ just stressed.

At last, the Jew let out a sigh, "Maybe you're right..."

"I _am_ right, now calm your tits!" Kenny smirked, "'Sides, you'll be fine once classes start, my lil' nerd." He took a hand off Kyle's shoulder and pinched the boy's pale cheek.

"MMM..." He groaned, narrowing his eyes at the blond. He didn't like being babied by anyone, especially his friends.

"That's the spirit!" Kenny cheered, letting go of Kyle and leaning back against the window once again, "Focus on how much of a retard I am! All the funny feelings'll vanish!"

"You aren't a retard," Kyle said, "You just act like one sometimes."

"Ya give me too much credit, Ky," He rolled his eyes, "Ya really do."

The squeaky shrill of the old bus mechanics pierced the air as it rolled to a halt. Outside the windows, the high school sat in all its crappy glory. There weren't even a thousand kids in the high school—counting all four grade levels—meaning the building the town funded wasn't all that big. Actually, it was nearly a clone of the elementary school, the only differences being the student parking lot where the elementary school would have a playground, the auditorium being larger and actually jutting out from the side of the school, and the sign above the door reading "South Park High" in massive charcoal letters.

"All rrrright," The driver said, rolling his rs excessively, "Everrryone out." With a few puffing noises and a mechanic squeak, the doors opened.

With the squeak as their cue, everyone got up from their seats, stretching and groaning as they filed into the cluttered aisle and pushed and shoved their way out.

"Stan," Kyle looked over at his friend, Stan still out cold while everyone else was leaving, "Wake up."

Stan didn't move at all, still resting in the seat, finding comfort in the sheet rock cushions.  
"Stan!" Kyle got up and shook the raven-haired boy's arm.

"MMMMM..." Stan moaned, rolling over to form a foetal position against the window.  
"I'll handle this," Kenny said, lightly pushing the Jew to the side. He leaned over Stan, string the sleeping boy down. "_STANNEH!_" He yelled into Stan's ears at the top of his lungs.

"Gah!" Stan jerked up, nearly dropping his empty coffee cup. He frantically looked around, trying to see what the emergency was. "Dammit, Kenny!" He glared at the blond again, "Ya nearly broke my eardrums."

"Shut up and get your ass outta that seat," He said, walking down the aisle way with Kyle in front of him, "Your bitch awaits you at your locker."

Stan groaned slowly getting up. His muscles were even less cooperative after sitting down and napping, which made getting out of the crater's gravitational pull even more difficult. _Fuck Cartman and his lardass..._ He grudgingly thought, finally stumbling out into the aisle. He had to use the tops of the seats to pull himself to the front of the bus, ending up being the last one off. Kyle and Kenny were waiting for him when Stan emerged from the bus.

"Dude, you look like you're about to pass out," Kyle frowned, "Are you sure you didn't have decaf coffee in that cup?"

"Mom doesn't make decaf in the mornings," Stan grumbled, walking right past the two orange clad boys, "I'll just walk it off or catch a couple Zs in Lit..."

"What if we have a reading check?" Kyle asked, right on Stan's heels with Kenny at his side.

"Then I'll lie, say I'm sick, and sleep in the nurse's office..." Stan shrugged, "I my hate sitting with the sicks, but it's a place to sleep."

"Or ya can just go to the bathroom and never come back," Kenny suggested, "I do it all the time!"

"So you can get stoned in the stalls?" Kyle said.

"FUCK YEAH!" Kenny fist-pumped the air, "Or get lucky with one of the lonely bitches wandering the halls for whatever reason."

Stan pushed open the double door entrance, walking into the main hall with his best friends coming up on either side.

_BRING! BRING! BRING!_

"Classes already?" Kyle glanced at the clock, a bit shocked that they'd just barely made it.

"Musta been 'cause Stan was moving so motherfucking slooooow." Kenny drawled.

"Shut up, man," Stan lost count of how many times he'd said that over the course of the morning, "Aw fuck, I couldn't meet Wendy... She's got Gov now..."

"Meet her later, Stan," Kyle told him, taking lead of the trio and heading towards their first period class, AP Lit, "We need to get to class now."

"Alright..." Stan sighed, a pang of guilt hitting him. He really did care about Wendy, and he was a bit worried about her attitude this morning...

A screech came across the intercom, scratching on all the boy's skulls with acoustic nails.

"_STANLEY MARSH, KENNY MCCORMICK, AND KYLE BROFOSLOVISKI PLEASE COME TO THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE. STAN KENNY AND KYLE, PLEASE COME TO THE OFFICE._" A monotone voice droned, announcing to the world that something—more than likely something really terrible—was about to happen to them.

"The fuck?" Kenny stared at the speaker hanging in the corner of the hall, "We just got here!"

"They never get my name right," Kyle rubbed his temples, heaving a sigh before saying, "Anyway; we may as well see what's going on."

"Aw Christ," Stan mumbled, turning about face with the others to head for the office of impending doom, "If anything we're gonna walk in there and it's gonna be about Cartman blaming something on us."

"Well, we're just going to have to see," Kyle said, hoping that they weren't in trouble, though he knew that trouble was unavoidable. They were _always_ in trouble for one scheme or another.

And they were mostly unaware of the deep trouble they were already in.

* * *

**A/N: At last, I update this. I've toyed with it for a good while, you know? I've been wanting to work on it more but I still had a lot to think out. And then I made a few choices, thought some crap up, and BAM! To be perfectly honest, I don't have much of a plan for this. I'm doing what feels good and just going with my gut. I do know what I'm doing and have a mental idea on the flow, so don't think I'm doing this too blindly, but a lot of the writing is just what comes to mind.**

**Also, in case you haven't noticed, this is going to be pretty lengthy. Hell we've only heavily mentioned Cartman, kind of had Wendy in there, mentioned Butters in a memory, and didn't even talk about Bebe! They'll come in soon, no worries! I wanted to include them, but I thought it would be better to wait. I wanna go into them a bit instead of cramming them all. **

**Oh, and just beforehand, the character marker thing is gonna change every chapter until I really decide who the 'main' people are. So whatever the mark says, that's likely whose in the chapter most. Eventually it'll be set people, but for now it's not. **

**I hope you enjoyed reading! I ended up working on this for the past few days (and season 15 comes out in a few hours btw :D) since I just cut loose with it. I added in some backstory and such too, since the town isn't EXACTLY the same. Time passed, mein gott! **

**Now when the hell will this get an update? Lord only knows. It could take a while since there's a lot to be written and a bit of thought to be put into things plus I wanna wrap up other stories so I can give this my full attention. But before I can even think about that,_ it's all about whether you readers leave a damn review or not! _So you should all REVIEW to be super awesome since I'm not putting loads of effort into something no one wants. **

**And, on a final parting note (I know, this is a long A/N), thanks for reading! Double thanks with sprinkles if you review. I'm actually kind of liking this story, so I wanna hear if you like it too. I can say now that there is going to be a bit of screwing around to come (in many senses) and there's going to be a bit of everything in here. Mwahaha~ **

**Kay, review, my pets! Have a cool day/night/whenever you're reading this! BE HAPPY FOR SEASON 15 STARTING UP TODAY! :D ~CQO**


	3. Academic Wrath

The three boys shuffled their way to the front office, all of them wondering what the hell they were in for _this_ time. There were loads of possibilities—was it drugs or a cracked out plot from last month—but none of them could think of what exactly their crime was. Kyle kept thinking about it, trying to pinpoint their charge. He had a strong feeling that them being called to the office was somehow linked to the delayed appearance of their fat friend, but just what he did this time was what was bugging him. Stan was far too worn out to think, simply dreading the trip that was making him migrate all the way across the school just to have the principal bitch at them and possibly threaten them with a detention (usually, Stan was spared using the whole 'The Cows need me!' speech and Kyle was just exempt since he was 'such a good boy', leaving Kenny and Eric with the detentions they usually never even went to). Whatever the reason for them being summoned to the office, it was undoubtedly going to be a waste of time. Then there was Kenny, who could care less about what the foul was and was more focused on coming up with a half-assed excuse before they reached their destination. A detention was a detention—he got them all the time—but if he got lucky he'd be able to weasel his way out of trouble. That plan _did_ work three fourths of the time, and today he was feeling like something good was in the air. He felt _lucky_ to say the least.

"So whatcha think we're in for this time?" The blond asked casually, looking around the ghost town halls, "I mean, we haven't all collaborated on a shenanigan since last month when we sat on the roof and chucked eggs at people."

"Correction, you three chucked eggs at people," Kyle said, "I, on the other hand, just sat there on the roof reading a book while you pelted the faculty."

"Crime by association, Ky," Kenny winked, "You are best friends with three known delinquents."

"Hey, I'm not a fulltime delinquent like you," Stan mumbled, eyelids drooping as he walked. He was turning more into a drowsy zombie with each step, "I've a football career while you got a stash of pot and porn at home."

"It's all a man needs, Stanny," Kenny smirked.

"Sex and drugs isn't the root of everything, you know," Kyle rolled his eyes, "There are things like priorities and responsibilities and virtues and…"

"Kyle. Stop talking like a goodie two-shoes virgin," Kenny bluntly said, patting the top of Kyle's head, "I know you are one, ya don't need to make it obvious."

"SHUT UP!" Kyle snarled, cheeks flaring bright red, "There's nothing wrong with being a virgin!"

Kenny just snickered, the redhead's reaction too priceless.

The green eyes grew darker, anger burning in the boy's coal pupils. So he wasn't really all that interested in doing things like…_that_, so what? There was a small strike of pride in him that was more than content with 'missing out' on foolish high school romances and one-night stands.

"At least I don't whore out," The Semite spat, glowering at the cackling blond. Usually he was only that cold to Eric, but he was getting defensive about this one.

"Ahah—HEY!" He shot a dirty look at Kyle, "I do _not_ whore out. _People come to me,_" He grabbed the sides of his hood, pulling it back to show his messy dirty blond mob of hair and better show his face, "Come on, look at me! Who wouldn't?" He winked at the other, giving him his signature suave smirk that had a tendency of winning people over with but a slight curve to the lips and flash of the teeth.

"Someone who knew how much of a cocky son of a bitch you are," Kyle muttered, gaze flickering down to their sneakers as the administration office came into view.

"Aw come on, you know that's why I love me!" The blond cheered, patting Kyle hard on the back. Over the years, he'd grown to love Kyle's annoyed reactions; as long as he wasn't _seriously_ annoyed, that was.

"Kenny..." Kyle said, raising his tone as a warning. He glowered at Kenny, though the glint in his eyes told the truth; he wasn't really that pissed.

"Love ya too, man," Kenny smirked, shrugging of the annoyance of the other with a few chuckles.

"Ergh..." Kyle glared back at the ground, a light shade of crimson on his cheeks. He hated the fact that he blushed fairly easy—especially being a _boy_ who blushed easily—but he didn't care much if it was around Stan and Kenny. They _were_ his closest friends, after all; they wouldn't pick on him about it (at least not too badly).

"Kenny, cut it out," Stan said, giving his delayed reaction to the little quarrel.

"D'aww, but I love seein' that cute wittwe bwush!" Kenny teased, chuckling a bit more when he noticed Kyle's cheeks get a shade darker.

"SHUT UP!" Kyle yelled.

"Kenny, quit being gay and try to be serious," Stan said, speaking a bit slower than before, "We're in trouble, remember?"

"Calm your tits, man, I was just teasin' the guy," Kenny stuck his tongue out at the raven-haired boy.

"Well don't fucking molester him during the," He paused to yawn, "...The meeting."

"Me? Molester Ky? NEVER!" Kenny said. It was true; the only ones he never thought of sleeping with were his closest four guy friends, them being Stan, Cartman, Butters, and Kyle. Of course none of them exactly knew about the fact that Kenny was a bit more 'open' to things (why be limited to one gender when the other can give just as good sex?), but what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them. The farthest he ever got with another guy was a blowjob outside Shakey's for ten bucks anyway.

"Hey, Stan, are you sure you're okay?" Kyle asked, looking over at the exhausted jock as he pushed open the door to the office, "You look like you're gonna collapse, dude."

"I'm fine, Ky," Stan lied, "It probably just needs a minute to kick in."

"Whatever you say..." Kyle sighed, clearly concerned but knowing it would be best to drop the whole thing before he and Stan started bickering.

The three boys entered the office hearing the quick clicks of Mrs. Stotch's keyboard, the blonde haired woman busily typing away. Since the fiasco with her and Mr. Stotch, Linda ended up taking a job at the understaffed school, partially for the sake of getting some income and partially to keep a bit of an eye on her son.

"Hey, Lin!" Kenny shouted, waving to the middle-aged woman as he cruised past the front desk. Kenny had been to the office enough times to get on a first name basis with most of them.

"Hello, Kenny," She mumbled, eyes glued to the computer screen as she typed up a document that looked longer than a Harry Potter novel.

"Hi, Mrs. Stotch," Kyle smiled, walking past her a bit nervously. It had been a while before he'd been to the office without knowing beforehand what the troublesome reason was.

"Mpf..." Stan grunted a greet, lagging behind the other two as they paraded down to the principal's.

"Kyle, Stan," Linda murmured, "I hope you boys didn't get in too much trouble..."

"I'm sure it's nothing!" Kyle assured, trying to convince himself the same thing.

At the end of the short hall was a plain oak door with a glass window on it; a beige plastic shade pulled down so no outsiders could peek in. On the glass in thick black letters were the words 'Principal's Office', the first 'P' a bit chipped and the third 'I' peeling off. They'd found their judgment hall.

Kenny reached for the dull silver handle, his cool composure still there as he opened the door into the office. He'd only been there a hundred times over the course of his high school career, why were some kids scared of going there?

Kids weren't afraid of going to the principal's office not because of the punishment and possible phone call home but more due to _who_ their principal was.

Seated at the large desk in the centre of the room was none other than the boys' third and fourth grade teacher, Mr. Garrison. For some reason, after the former high school principal jumped into Stark's and drowned, the superintendent chose the nuttiest of all teachers to run the school. Just when Mr. Garrison thought that his troubles and hardships of teaching elementary students was over, he met the new challenge of his former students becoming high schoolers. Everyone got screwed in that deal.

"Boys," He said in his Arkansas drawl, squinting at the three entering through his square glasses, "Have a seat."

"Yo, Mr. G!" Kenny smiled, plopping into the nearest chair, sitting so his feet would hang over one chair arm and his back would rest on the other, "How's it goin'?"

"Kenny," Kyle whispered, making a motion with his hands for the blond to shut his mouth as he took the seat next to Kenny, "Hello, Mr. Garrison."

"Kahl..." The bald man said, glaring at the blond. Kenny just smiled back, either oblivious to the annoyance or just outright ignoring it.

Stan sluggishly got in the seat on the other side of Kyle, not even bothering with a greeting of any sort.

Mr. Garrison's grey eyes flickered between the three boys, looking at the three fourths of the infamous troublemaking quartet that orchestrated some of the biggest scandals in the history of the town. As the years ticked on, his hair turned whiter, making it look like cotton balls were attached to the side of his head. Other than that, he was basically the same as he was back in the boys' grade-school days, only just a bit more cynical. As the kids got older, so did his level of sarcasm.

"Do you boys know why I cawlled you to my office," He asked after a long time observing the three's faces.

They all shook their heads.

"_Exactly_," Mr. Garrison smirked, leaning back in his comfy chair, "Because you boys are going to tell me."

Stan, Kyle, and Kenny looked at one another, trying to make sense of what the man was trying to say. Confusion was on each one of their faces, not even Kyle able to decipher the principal's hidden meaning.

Kyle felt two blue eyes settle on him, voting the nerdy good one to be their spokesperson without saying a word. He glanced between the sapphires and the azurites, knowing it was two against one.

"Mr. Garrison..." Kyle spoke softly, "I don't think any of us exactly follow..."

The principal slammed his hands on the desk, creating a loud bang that silenced the mousy speaker.

"What are you up to?" Mr. Garrison shouted, "I know you boys are plannin' something now spill!"

"Mr. Garrison, we aren't planning anything!" Kyle said, "Honest!"

"Then where the fuck is Eric?" He snarled.

"How the fuck should we know!" Kenny butted in, "He wasn't at the damn bus stop and we frankly don't give a shit where the turd is!"

"Stay out of this McCormick!" Mr. Garrison glared at the blond, "Or I'm gonna have a talk with your mother."

"Pfft, like my mom cares if I'm in trouble," Kenny scoffed, "Man, didn't you learn anything when you had Kevin?"

"Kevin dropped out, Kenny!" The principal rolled his eyes.

"Exactly! And did Mom care? Nope," The boy grinned slyly, "Jee, I thought you'd know everything about our families as a principal of a shitty school in a small pisstant town."

"Do you want a detention?" The man threatened.

"Hold on!" Stan yelled, his words slurred slightly, "How do you know Cartman's skipping? You only called us to the office so how the hell would you expect him to show up?"

"It's cawlled psychology, Stanley!" Mr. Garrison turned his attention to the jock, "I'm surprised Kahl didn't figure that little trick out first but the point is that ya told me all I had to know; Eric ain't at school. So he's likely getting things ready for one of you boys' quacked out pranks!"

"We don't call on Cartman to start planning anything without supervision," Kyle coldly stated, "If you paid attention to anything you would know that Cartman doing things without our knowledge is more than likely another one of his stupidass schemes to get rich or make me look bad or something."

"I don't need your smartass attitude right now, Kahl," Mr. Garrison barked.

"Dude, calm down," Stan said, "We haven't—YAAAWH—done anything..."

"Then why the hell are you so tired?" Mr. Garrison inquired, cocking a brow.

"Easy, he was with Wendy last night," Kenny smirked, covering for Stan by using an excuse from his book, "Ya know," He thrusted his pelvis a few times, making little 'UMPF' sounds as he did so just to prove a point.

Kyle facepalmed. It was a good excuse, but Kenny didn't need to necessarily demonstrate.

Mr. Garrison looked at Kenny unamused, lips pursed in a straight line. He then glanced back at Stan, looking the worm boy over. Stan was the school quarterback; he should've been used to vigorous physical activity! Then again, Wendy had a tendency to wear people out just talking so it wouldn't be shocking if she was just as tiresome in bed.

"Stan, don't screw your girlfriend before school," Mr. Garrison said plainly.

"Y-yes, sir..." The ebon boy nodded.

"Well..." The principal sighed, "I suppose I didn't really have a reason to cawll you in..."

"Can we just go to class now?" Kyle asked, "We have nothing up our sleeves we just wanna learn."

Mr. Garrison didn't respond at first, analysing the boys once again, scanning them for lies.

"I believe that coming from you, Kahl," He said, "Though I'm not sure about _them_." He looked at Kenny in particular.

"Hey I learn shit!" The blond frowned.

"It's seven thirty in the morning do you think they're going to go anywhere?" Kyle frowned, "Just let us go to Lit already!"

"Fine, just get your asses to class already!" The principal pointed to the door, an angry glint to his glasses and a blood boiling under his bald skin, "Just looking at you three is pissin' me off!"

"Aw screw off," Kenny snapped, swinging his legs over the chair. His boots knocked against the side of Mr. Garrison's desk, shaking the entire wobbly structure. The ceramic mug of assorted pens and pencils tipped over, spilling writing utensils all over the important papers and computer keyboard, a few rolling to the edge of the desk and taking a fall to the floor.

"Shit…" The blond muttered, biting his lip. He was fine with being cocky, but not with being klutzy.

"Kenny, detention," Mr. Garrison said coldly, staring down at all he'd have to clean up.

"Aw, come on!" The boy moaned.

"_GO TO CLASS!"_ Mr. Garrison was growing pissier by the second.

"Let it go, Ken," Kyle told the other, getting up out of his seat and heading for the door, happy to finally be able to go back to class.

The blond glowered at the principal, growled, and then followed the redhead.

Stan, on the other hand, didn't make any effort to move, the comfort of the cushioned chair sucking him in and holding him there. His vision half blocked by the blurred dark backs of drooping eyelids.

"Stan," Kyle called, waiting for the raven-haired one to get up before leaving the office.

Stan didn't respond, the only part of him moving being his eyelids sagging a tad more.

"Stanley, go to class," The irked Mr. Garrison said.

Again, all Stan did was let his eyes close a little more.

"I'll get him," Kenny said, walking back over to where his friend sat. While Stan started going into a vegetative state, Kenny grabbed one of the arms of the chair. Then, with as much strength as he could muster, he tipped the seat over, sending the jock to the ground faster than the North Park defence line.

_THUNK!_

"Ow…" Stan groaned, lying sprawled out on the carpet as though he'd just been murdered. He opened his eyes slightly, noticing that the world had flipped on its side, "What the…?"

"Dude, class, now," Kenny grabbed Stan by the shoulders and hoisted him to his feet, trying not to fall over himself. Football players weren't particularly light in weight.

"Class…? OH CLASS!" Somewhere along the line of the conversation, Stan just zoned out, forgetting where he was, what he was doing, and just about everything else other than his tiredness. He was just so exhausted…was being that tired without being dead possible?

"You're all late so all you three go!" Mr. Garrison barked, just wanting the boys gone already.

"We're going, we're going!" Kyle said, creaking the door open as Kenny walked Stan over to the exit, "Have a nice day." No matter how much of an asshole he was, Kyle was still going to be polite to their crazy principal.

"Stop being a kiss-ass," He retorted, snatching up some pens and shoving them in the mug.

The Jew shot a glare at the bald man, stepping out of the room with one hand balled into a fist…save for the middle finger. It wasn't like he was getting caught, so why the hell not?

The trio filed out of the office, slamming the door shut once they were all out. Not only was that a morning spoiler with a fruitless purpose, but they were also late for class. And their teacher would _not_ be happy.

"What the fuck is his problem?" Kenny muttered, crossing his arms once Stan maintained balanced footing.

"He's Mr. Garrison, what isn't his problem?" Kyle said, quickening his pace so they wouldn't be as late as they would be just strolling over to class.

"That was a good job givin' 'im the finger while he wasn't lookin'," Kenny said, "I'm actually impressed that ya had the balls to do that."

"What? You thought I'd let him be an asshole to us forever?" Kyle asked him as the three of them walked pas Mrs. Stotch again, "I dealt with that shit since elementary school and now I'm a freaking high school senior, it's about fucking time I do something more than shrugging it off."

"My delinquency is rubbing off on you," Kenny smiled, pretending to tear up, "I'm so proud of you!"

"And I did it without getting detention," He smugly smirked. Kyle pushed open the door leading to the hall, strolling out of the front office with Kenny right behind him and Stan trailing behind.

"Fuck you, man!" Kenny said, flipping the Jewish boy off. Kyle just laughed, loving Kenny's pissy reactions just as much as Kenny loved his. Even Kyle had to admit that pissing people off was fun.  
"Someone's a little hot-headed," Kyle said.

"Depends what head you're talkin' 'bout," Kenny wiggled his brows.

"Pervert," The redhead muttered, closing the door once Stan the human snail crossed out of the office and into the hallway.

"I prefer the term 'a man of many kinks', thank you," Kenny smirked.

"How about 'a man of little morals'?" Kyle asked, smirking a bit himself.

"D'aww, you make me sound like a bad person, Ky," The blond pouted, giving the Jew puppy-dog eyes.

"You aren't exactly an angel," Kyle pointed out, "Unless angels fuck everything in sight now."  
"Heaven has new rules, fucking's just fine," Kenny joked.

_BANG!_

While the other two boys engaged in a battle of the friendly pick up lines, Stan made his way to the other side of the hallway by sleepwalking. Unfortunately, the long line of lockers wasn't visible to him when his eyes were shut, the boy not even noticing they were there until he slammed his face against the cold metal.

"AW FUCK!" That woke Stan up a little.

Kenny and Kyle quickly snapped their heads in Stan's direction, forgetting their playful teasing to make sure the jock was okay. Concern flooded both their eyes. They weren't blind; something was clearly wrong with Stan.

"Dude!" Kyle rushed over as Stan stumbled back away from the wall rubbing his head, "You are _not_ okay!"

"Kyle..." Stan muttered, opening his eyes enough to see the worried redhead at his side, "C-calm down. I'm fine. I've taken worse hits than a run in with the lockers."

"Bullshit," Kenny frowned, "Fine people don't slam into lockers! Well, unless you're me, but that ain't the point!"

"The point is," Kyle turned the ebon haired boy towards him, looking deep into his worn half-lidded eyes, "You shouldn't be here. You should at least go to the nurse and get a check up of you aren't going home."

"I'm fine!" Stan lightly pushed Kyle away. He usually had to be careful about his strength, but he already had so little in him it didn't matter. He didn't need much strength to push a short skinny diabetic a few steps away from him anyway.

"HEY!" Kyle peddled back a few paces, swaying a bit but maintaining balance, "Stop being such a thick headed dick and listen to me!" He glared at the boy, "Get your ass to the nurse now before Ken and I drag you there!"

"Wait, Kyle!" The blond stepped between the two best friends, placing his hands on the fired up redhead's shoulders, "Calm down, man. Don't bust a nut over Stanny being a retard."

"HEY!" Stan scowled, "I'm right here, dibshit!" He tried to take a step forward, wobbling when he lifted a foot up. He grabbed onto one of the combination locks to keep himself standing as he stumbled back to the spot he was in before.

Kenny simply glanced back at Stan, his point being proven without even having to explain it.

"See, he's being a retard right now by thinking I'm a dibshit who doesn't know jack about proper health," Kenny said, then looked back to Kyle, "Either way, if the guy wants to go to class just let 'im. No doubt he'll get sent right out if he passes out in Lit, assumin' we get there. So you _AND STANNY_ stop bitchin' at each other."

Kyle glowered down at the floor, still wanting to go with his plan of hauling Stan's sleepy ass to the nurse's office to prevent further cranium injury. _I guess he's got a point...even though __**I'M RIGHT**__... There isn't much use arguing with Kenny anyway since he'll just cover my mouth and drag me to class squirming..._ He let out a sigh, _Goddammit..._

"_Fine_," He whispered, "As long as he gets checked out at some point today by either the nurse or the doctor..."

"Much as Stanny hates 'em I betcha he'll be goin' there soon," Kenny smiled, taking his hands off Kyle's shoulders and tilting up the boy's head. The blond turned, seeing Stan falling asleep on his feet again, propped up against the same locker he crashed into. "STANNY!"

"Wha...?" Stan lifted his head some, barely opening his eyes. Thin azure crescents were all that was visible of his exposed eyes.

"We're goin' to class, bitch," Kenny said, shoving his hands in his pants pockets and walking towards the Lit room, "Now come on, I ain't goin' to class without you assholes! Remember _I'm_ the one who always skips, dontcha go ruining my reputation by stayin' behind while I actually show up."

"God... It's a miracle he hasn't gotten kicked out yet." Stan mumbled, slowly turning to walk after the obnoxious blond.

"No one really cares at this school, Stan," Kyle said, "We're a small hick town so most people could care less."

"Yeah..." He sighed, "S-sorry for snapping at you earlier, dude... I'm just out of it..." He swooned a bit.

"Hey," Kyle grabbed onto his arm, keeping Stan from falling over and guiding him as they walked, "It's cool. Sorry I've been acting like such an asshole this morning..."

"You aren't an asshole," Stan weakly grinned, "You're my overly caring dorky best friend."

"Oh stop," Kyle rolled his eyes, "Next thing I know you're going to turn into Zac Efron or something."

"Hey, singing and dancing in high school isn't cool anymore, remember?" Stan mused.

"Thank god," Kyle said.

"Hey fags!" Kenny yelled from the archway leading to the next hall, "Quit cuddlin' and come the fuck on already! Or at least make it a threesome!"

Stan and Kyle shot glares at Kenny. Kenny just grinned his usual cocky-son-of-a-bitch smile.  
"Can you walk any faster?" Kyle asked, trying to pick up their pace.

"I'm trying, man," Stan looked down at his legs, noticing that they were going _slower_ the more he tried to make them go _faster_. All his muscles felt like Jell-o, making his walk on tile feel like a trudge through molasses.

"GET THOSE ASSES MOVING!" Kenny shouted, "COME ON FUCKING HUSTLE BOYS!"

A door flew open, the squirrelly old French teacher poking her head out the door and giving the boisterous boy the fish eye. "_SHHHHHH!_" The teacher hissed, putting a finger to her lips as a sign to shut it.

"Sorry," Kenny shrugged; his cocky grin turning into a slightly nervous one. Some teachers just loved to give out referrals and detentions to kids they didn't like; and Kenny wasn't exactly loved by most of the teachers.

"HMPF!" The teacher nodded angrily before slamming the door to her class shut, making more noise with the door than Kenny did with his voice.

"Bitch..." The blond muttered under his breath, redirecting his attention back to the dynamic duo known as Stan and Kyle. By that point, they'd managed to get to the end of the hall, although Stan was being dragged more than walking on his own. This was not too good for the scrawny Semite tugging him along.

"Can you take him, Ken?" Kyle asked, his arm already worn out and in pain.

"Sure, come 'ere, Stanny," Kenny walked up on the other side of the sleepy ebon, hooking his arm with Stan's free arm.

"Mmm... I'm not a baby, guys," Stan groaned, both his friends pulling him across the main hall, "I can walk..."

"Bullshit," The orange clad boys said in unison.

"Stan, you nearly passed out several times," Kyle said, "Just once is a bad sign let alone how many times you did,"

"Coffee's just gotta kick in..." Stan grumbled.

"Quit sayin' that," Kenny frowned, "We ain't buyin' the crap you're tryin' to sell us. Just thank me for havin' enough faith in ya to _not_ send you to the nurse like Ky suggested."

"Urgh..." Stan groaned, staring down at the floor, his eyelids sagging once again. _They do have a point though..._ He thought_, I'm way sleepier than I should be... It's just... Ugh I wanna go back to bed and rest... Maybe lie on the couch and watch fucking Terrance and Philip reruns... Anything but fucking school..._

As they made their way down the hall to their AP Literature class, Kyle kept glancing at Stan from the corner of his eye. Like the caring friend he was, it was natural that seeing Stan looking like such a wreck made him worry. However, worry wasn't the only thing on his mind. /_He should've sucked up his headstrong attitude and listened to me..._ Kyle thought_, I was right; he should be in the nurse! Kenny's plan is just stalling it... Stan needs help now! If I could I'd drag him there right now... Hell if I had half Stan's strength we'd fucking BE THERE by now... Why won't they admit that my plan was the better one...? And... Why do I suddenly care so much...? I was still right though..._ Stan ended up slipping out of his mind as he focused back on his recent decrease in modesty and increase in arrogance. It was slight, but just that was setting him off into a drastic self psychosis evaluation.

Kenny, meanwhile, wasn't focused on anything, instead looking around the empty hall in search of a distraction, thinking ten random thoughts at once. _God, those two are actin' funny today... Hell am I the only one who feels great? I mean the hell? Did I miss somethin'? Wait... I LEFT MY FUCKING HOMEWORK AT HOME AW SHIIIIT! That's what I must be missin'! Aw well, shit happens... I barely did it anyway... There are other things I gotta do... Like chicks... Mmm... That sounds really nice right now... Just get a nice cutie... Smash my face in 'er tits... Get right up in her... Oh... Oh yeah..._ He stopped a minute, taking into account the tightness in his jeans, _Fuck; I need to get some now before that dick of mine gets me in trouble... Meh, it can wait till second period maybe... Stanny's gotta be okay first... I'll just think about somethin' else... Like... Oh god I'd love a good joint right now to clear my head so I can think a lil' fucking better..._

By the time the boys got to the classroom door, they could hear the hollers of their lovely teacher, Ms. Dijkstra. The class likely would've been a lot more pleasant for just about everyone if they didn't have a crusty, critical crab snipping at students for getting just one minor detail wrong. Only a perfectionist could sit through the class without being crucified; thus Kyle was the only one in the class who was spared the constant snapping.

"_Clyde Donavon how many times have I told you to begin reading the novel already? It's no speculate that you're constantly carping about how you have appalling marks when you never so much as bother to examine the material!"_ The shrill shouts bled through the door, the boys outside having their trains of thought derailed. They looked at each other, all three of them hesitant about going in while Dijkstra was strangling the life out of someone with her sharp tongue and overwhelming vocabulary even Kyle had trouble following sometimes. Stan, despite his drowsiness, still had a horrified glint in what was showing of his eyes, the shrieks of the teacher scratching on his skull like nails on a chalkboard. Kenny bit his lip, realising that it was likely a bad day to forget his copy of _1984_ at home. Kyle gulped, not in as much peril as the others but still just as unsettled by the banshee of a teacher they had.

He ended up being the brave one, reaching his hand out to turn the doorknob and creak it open, trying to be as quiet as possible to avoid the wrath of their English teacher.

"I didn't think we'd have a reading check after just getting the book!" Clyde said, sitting towards the back of the class. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the current fight, completely oblivious to the three boys slipping into the class and sneaking to their seats. Kyle went first, dragging Stan behind him as the duo crept to their empty chairs along the third row. Kenny started to go after them, seeing his seat waiting for him, but he knew that he'd have to close the door before doing anything.

"Well you thought inaccurately!" Ms. Dijkstra hissed, baring her butterscotch yellow teeth at the brown-haired linebacker who'd dared complain about failing a reading check he wasn't prepared for, "You should recognize by now that we have reading checks habitually in order to ensure that all students are actually paying attention and reading so they can pass the class and get the credits to graduate and be put towards university!"

"Bu-!" Clyde started, only to be interrupted by a loud slam.

All head whipped in the direction of the sound, everyone honing in on the bright orange blond. By everyone, that specifically meant Ms. Dijkstra. The woman narrowed her eyes into ice blue slits, using her stare as daggers to pin Kenny to where he stood.

"Kenneth," She sneered, crossing her arms and tapping her foot, the heavy bottoms of her heels clanking against the tile floor.

"Aw shit..." He muttered as he let out a sigh, bracing himself for a load of words he wouldn't understand but basically could be summarised into 'BUSTED!'

"Why are you tardy? Class commenced over fifteen minutes ago, shortly approaching the twenty minute mark. Where have you been? And if you're here..." She snapped her head to look at Stan and Kyle, both the boys just sitting down, "Then naturally your cronies are just arriving as well."

"Look, we got an excuse," Kenny said, holding up his arms like the caught criminal he was, "Garrison called us in to talk to 'im and bitched at us about bull."

"Use proper grammar, Kenneth," Ms. Dijkstra chirped. Kenny's eye twitched; he hated when people called him Kenneth, "And I do not wholly believe that your statements are factual. You very well could be feeding me falsities just to circumvent another detention."

"I ain't lying!" Kenny snarled, "Tell 'er, Kyle!"

Ms. Dijkstra—along with everyone else in the class—turned their attention to the redhead. Kyle looked at each of the faces staring at him, hating when he had to be the backup spokesperson with the uncanny ability of getting people out of trouble. The teacher's expression remained hard, not even softening for her favourite student.

"W-well..." Kyle said, finding it hard to keep completely cool with iced eyes burning him, "It's true. Really, you can call Mr. Garrison and ask him yourself. Even then we have Mrs. Stotch as a witness. The principal called us in, talked to us about a few things, and then sent us back t class. Right, Stan?" Kyle lightly elbowed the ebon boy, sending a surge that kept Stan at least slightly more alert for a few seconds.

"Hmm? Oh...yeah..." Stan nodded like a bobble head, "'S true..."

"Mmmm..." The teacher pressed her lips together, thinking over the testimonies a moment. She never could—nor she ever WOULD—trust what Kenny said, but Kyle was a solid source who couldn't lie under pressure. Unless Kyle was taking super lie lessons, Ms. Dijkstra figured that it had to be truthful, "I suppose that if Kyle says it's true, then your narrative does in fact have credibility."

"So...can I sit down?" Kenny asked for the translation. A lot of the times, he wished that woman would just speak like a normal human being (and act like one too, for that matter).

"Yes, take your seat," She said in a calm yet snarky tone, "Now you three—and the rest of you—unearth your copies of _1984_ and place them on your desk so we may instigate a symposium."

The class groaned in unison, everyone pulling out their copies of their required reading and slamming the flimsy paperbacks on their desks. Kenny whistled as he took his chair next to Stan, plopping his backpack on the ground and leaning back, awaiting the punishment he was going to get any moment.

"Dude," Kyle looked past Stan to check up on the blond, "You didn't..."

"Did I mention that cats love chewin' paper?" Kenny smiled with a shrug, "Ain't my fault Pamela likes paper."

"Then let the cat scratch up your damn Playboys!" Kyle whisper-yelled, "You know Dijkstra's gonna murder you!"

"Eh," Kenny shrugged. He didn't give a shit; it was always the first admonishment of the week that was the worst anyway.

"Now I see everyone brought their books..." The teacher scanned the desks, her eyes fixing on Kenny's clean desk, "_Almost_ everyone."

"Heee..." The blond cheesily grinned.

The teacher frowned. She opened her mouth to spew another shouting rant at the troublesome blond, but was stopped by the slam of the door banging against the wall as it flew open. Everyone looked over, not expecting a loud entrance from anyone. However, when they saw who was entering, they weren't all too shocked.

Standing in the doorway was Eric Cartman, glaring at the class with glassy dark chocolate eyes. His face was twisted in a scowl, the boy appearing even more pissed off than usual. The fat boy growled at all those staring, taking booming strides over to his seat in the back next to Kenny. His steps caused earthquakes, the chairs and desks shaking as the boy passed.

"Eric..." The teacher said, watching the brown haired boy as he pulled out his chair noisily.  
Cartman didn't reply. Instead, he dropped his yellow backpack stuffed with textbooks on the floor, every desk in the two metre radius quaking. He then fell back into the car, causing another small earthquake as he settled down.

"ERIC." She was sterner in addressing him second time around.

"Hmm?" Cartman looked up at the teacher, "Oh, why _hello_, Ms. Dyke," His high-pitched grating voice instantly made the woman at the front of the class even more infuriated than before. A few students—Kenny among them—giggled at the bad nickname. One look from Ms. Dijkstra's eyes silenced them.

"_Eric_," She said, repressing her aggravation to the best of her ability, "Why are you tardy?"

"Well, I _was_ on my way to the bus stop when my goddamn half-_brother_, Scott Tenorman, drove up to try and talk to me. And he kept going like 'Hey, Eric," He scrunched his nose to give his voice a nasally edge while impersonating Scott, "I can give you a ride to school if you want,' and I was like, 'No, Scott. I'm riding the bus. Fuck off.' But he kept driving next to me trying to convince me to ride with him and I was like 'NO SCOTT GODDAMMIT I KNOW YOU WENT THROUGH FUCKING THERAPY BUT IF I GET IN THAT CAR YOU'RE PROBABLY GOING TO DRIVE ME OFF A CLIFF SO FUCK OFF ALREADY!' I started walking faster after that but he kept following me, so I ran, and he was still after me! So I was like 'You know what?' and stopped. He stopped too. So I walked over to the driver's side of the car, opened it, pulled that ginger shit out, and beat the crap out of him for following me. Then I left him in the snow with a bloody nose and drove to school in his car. So clearly, this is all my no good brother's fault as well as _Kyle's_," He empathised the 'aisle' pronunciation in the Jew's name, as he always did, "Because _he_ didn't notice that I was missing and come and get find me so I wasn't late."

"DUDE!" Kyle glowered at his nemesis, "I don't give a shot if you don't show up! It's not my fault to babysit you!"

"Well, Kyle, shut the fuck up," He snarled.

"Eric! Kyle! Profanity!" Ms. Dijkstra scolded, "Now, Eric, that is the most preposterous tall tale I've heard!"

"You doubt the abilities of Eric Cartman?" Kenny asked, not believing that Ms. Dijkstra didn't believe that. It was outlandish but it was something Cartman would do.

"Kenneth, silence," She snapped, "Now, Eric, I desire that you apprise your classmates in the actual cause of your tardiness."

"That is the real story, bitch!" Cartman growled, ready to pick a fight. He did not wake up on the right side of the bed that morning.

"Excuse me," The teacher was prepared for a struggle, "I highly doubt that. And if you dare attempt another usage of foul language don't think I'll hesitate to—"

"Shut up!" Cartman snarled, "I'm not in the mood for your fucking bullshit today and if you seriousleh don't believe me then go step out to the student parking lot and look for the beat up Ford in my parking space. Obviously you should know as a teacher who supposedleh knows her students well that _I _drive a _Jetta_ which is far better than a shitty Volvo."

Ms. Dijkstra was boiling by then, her face cherry red as she glared at the obnoxious teen. She gritted her teeth, snorting angrily like a bull ready to charge. If she could, shed have her frizzy auburn hair turn into rattlesnakes and transform into Medusa; she'd love to turn Eric to stone.

Cartman smiled, a mixture of smugness and happiness in his grin. He was feeding off her rage like the troll he was.

"THAT'S IT!" The woman raged, "ERIC THEDORE CARTMAN YOU ARE RECEIVING A DETENTION AND I ALSO _COMMAND_ YOU TO VISIT PRINICPAL GARRISON'S OFFICE THIS _INSTANT_!"

"Whoa-ho," Cartman rolled his eyes, "I just got here, ya know."

"YES. I'M AWARE. _NOW VACATE THAT CHAIR AND REPORT TO THE PRINCIPAL'S!_"

"Well you know, screw you, bitch," Eric spat, grabbing his belongings and standing up, "I'm going _home_."

"Cartman, stop being so immature!" Kyle shouted, on the teacher's side—as always—and against Cartman's side—as always, "Go see Mr. Garrison and get the punishment you deserve!"

"SHUT IT, JEWRAT!" Eric barked, giving Kyle a death glare, "I'M NOT IN THE MOOD FOR YOUR BULLSHIT!"

"Well saying 'screw you guys I'm going home' all the time gets you nowhere!" Kyle glared right back with the same expression.

"IT WON A FEW SPEECH AND DEBATE TOURNAMENTS, KAHL." Cartman spat.  
"OH STOP!" Kyle retorted, "YOU LEFT AND THEN WE WON IT HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU BEING AN ASSHOLE!"

"YOU'RE THE ASSHOLE, KAHL!" Eric bared his teeth, "YOU DIRTY SNEAKY JEWISH ASSHOLE!"

"DON'T YOU _DARE_ MAKE ANOTHER JEW COMMENT, NAZI!" Kyle stood up, balling his hands into fists. He felt an odd impulse rushing through him, one that was telling him to be defensive and to fight if he had to, even though it was just a typical Cartman jeer. He at least knew he could punch out Eric; he'd done it several times in the past.

"OH YOU WANNA GO, KIKE?" Cartman accepted the challenge, ready to have a fist fight in the middle of class, "I'LL FUCK YOU UP!"

"CARTMAN SHUT YA SHITHOLE!" Kenny decided he had to intervene (since Stan had fallen asleep and was too tired to be the peacemaker). The blond stood up, holding out his arms to block the boys from attacking each other, "JUST LISTEN TO THE FUCKING TEACH!"

"_**ALL THREE OF YOU SIT DOWN NOW**_" Ms. Dijkstra screamed, her shout bouncing off the walls of the classroom and echoing.

Everyone fell silent, the room growing still. Eric and Kyle glared at each other over Kenny's shoulders, growling at one another like wolves. Kenny shot glares at both of them, warning them that he'd try and break up the fight even if he was going to get sandwiched and maimed in the process. He stopped glancing back and forth and just went on to stare at Kyle, more shocked at his behaviour than Cartman's. It was normal for Cartman to resort to violence before all else, but _Kyle_? He was the pacifist nerd who won his battles through wit, not through fists. Deep concern swirled in the pools of cerulean, Kenny mutely asking Kyle "You okay, bro? This ain't like you..."

Kyle stared into Kenny's eyes, that look setting off a trigger in his brain that subdued him. The impulse faded, sense returning with a wave of questions. _Why did I do that? What's gotten into me? Did I just threaten Eric? Was it even considered provoked since he always says shit like that? Oh god what did I almost do...?_

The redhead blinked, trying to push the thoughts back so he could properly mull things over later. He sighed, giving Kenny a guilty apologetic look before sitting down again.

"HMPF," Cartman grunted, shooting the orange-clad boys dirty looks before plopping down in his seat again, sinking in the chair and tightly crossing his chubby arms.

Once Kenny was sure the violence threat was compromised, he sat back down too, feeling a bit proud that he got to be the mediator for once. He figured that Stan should take the next eighty million before he stepped in again though; he was just lucky it didn't get ugly.

"Well," Ms. Dijkstra huffed, "Now that Kenny negotiated a makeshift truce, we can continue the lecture," she paused, "I will also allow Eric to remain in the class under the condition that he must stay after class so I may speak with him. And I'm afraid I also must give Kyle a detention for the profanity and violence."

"Detention..." Kyle muttered, a pained expression crossing his face.

"It's cool, dude," Kenny whispered to the redhead, "We can be bad boy buddies."

Kyle looked over at Kenny and smiled weakly, thanking him for the light support but still a bit devastated about the detention. He hadn't gotten one of those in a _long_ time, always getting on probation time and time again. His biggest concern, though, was his _mother._

"HMPF!" Cartman pouted, but didn't make an argument, choosing to sit in his seat and brood.  
"Now if that is all we shall be turning to..." She trailed of when her eyes caught a glimpse of Stan, who had his head down on the desk. His face was lying on his cheek, mouth open slightly to allow a small stream of saliva to drip out of his mouth and into a pool of drool on the desk. There was no more visible azure, his eyes completely shut to lock Stan in sleep mode.

Ms. Dijkstra was not happy when kids who slept in her class; and her mood was already terrible after dealing with the class period from hell.

"STANLEY MARSH!" She screeched.

Stan didn't move.

_"STANLEY!"_

Again, the boy didn't budge.

_**"STANLEY!"**_

"Dude," Kyle leaned over to Stan, poking his head with the eraser end of his pencil, "Wake up." The pink eraser bopped against the raven-haired boy's forehead, then ended up poking his eye a few times.

"Mmgh..." Stan groaned, opening the eye that was poked, glowering at Kyle for waking him from his nap.

_"Stanley..."_ Ms. Dijkstra purred in the tone that meant certain trouble.

"Hmm?" Stan carefully lifted his head, although it felt like his skull was made of steel rather than bone.

"Detention." She said in a bitter tone, "Anyway, turn to chapter 2 and we'll begin to discuss Orwell's use of fatalism as a core component in Winston's character..."

"Mmpf," Stan slammed his head back on the desk, detaching himself from the lecture no one else was listening to. There was no point staying awake; it was going to be a _long_ fifteen minutes.

* * *

**A/N: Yay! Another chapter! Blegh, shorter than intended, but what can I do? It was a rough week so I decided to work on this, and am posting it at 5am (yay fucked up sleep!). **

**I bet this feels like little went on, eh? WRONG. Aside from character introductions, things are turning, it's just warming up. Bear with me won't you? I know I said I'd get Wendy, Bebe, and Butters in...but that didn't work out. I just thought this was a natural chapter end. I'm doing what feels good, so you just gotta wait until they come in. And that should be next chapter. Actually, loads comes next chapter, including a couple reasons why this story is rated M~**

**Also, yeah, Mr. Garrison is the principal...idk. I don't like OCs much AT ALL in fanfics and I wasn't even that pleased with creating the lovely Ms. Dijkstra (she's based of this horrid English teacher I had years ago) but whatever. There are going to be as few OCs as possible, guys, saying that now. I just think OCs go in original fictions and Fanfics stick with the characters available (but it's hard to do that when you age people up though I cheated and gave Mrs. Stotch a job).**

**Alright. Thanks for reading. Do review, I love those who do! -insert author begging here- Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! There's a LOT more to come.**


	4. Risqué Encounters

**A/N: Warning note, there's sex. (No duh this is an M rated fiction) But it's _heterosexual_ sex. **

**Yes, yes, be disappointed, yell at me, do whatever but there's a reason it's in there. You can skip it, but there is something in there that will be helpful to the future. I tried to make it as non-descriptive as I could (it's not that easy to write anyway) and there _will_ be graphic gay porn in the future (yeah, yeah, that sounds shallow to say but I'm not lying). **

**So just roll with it for the time being or just skip it.**

* * *

_BRING! BRING! BRING!_

"Ugh," Ms. Dijkstra scoffed, glaring at the bell on the wall that was her enemy and students' blessing, "I suppose concludes the day..." Already the symphony of books being shoved in bags, backpacks zipping up, and students stirring in their seats filled the air, "BUT BE PREPARED FOR A KNOWLEDGE CHECK!" Her eyes flickered to Clyde, "A select portion will require better marks in this course to pass."

The linebacker shuddered, the cold glare burning him as he continued packing up with the rest of the pack. Most of the students up front started shuffling out, happily walking out to the halls and striking up little conversations as they slipped into the halls. The whispers that went on all during class grew into buzzing conversations, the boys talking about the big game, which girl had the finest rack without a bra, and fart jokes while the girls discussed the latest episode of Glee, the celebrity fuck-ups, and who liked who and who was a bitch to who.

Unaware of anything, Stan kept snoozing, the hard desk serving as a heavenly pillow for the worn ebon. He'd toddled right back into dreamland as soon as Ms. Dijkstra started blabbering, no one bothering to wake him up; and he wanted it to stay that way.

Kyle kept checking on him every few minutes, concern growing the longer Stan slept. By the time the bell rang he was up and ready to jog the jock from dreamland and drag his ass to the nurse. Normal people—and especially a normal Stan—never got that tired.

"Stan...Stan..." Kyle hovered over his friend, as the class headed out to the halls, "Stan, wake up."

"Mmmgh..." Stan groaned, fingers twitching, but otherwise showing no sign of waking up.

"Stan!" Kyle frowned, "Stan, come on! We're going to be late for Calculus!" _Though I'm the only one actually going to class while you get a damn check-up..._

"D'aww, is _Kahl_ having trouble waking up his _boyfriend_?" Cartman sneered as he slung his backpack over a shoulder.

Kyle's gaze flickered open to his nemesis, stomach churning when he catch glimpse of his glassy brown eyes. After what happened earlier, Kyle knew Cartman would just want to fight—and this time it was potentially _physical_ fighting.

"Shut up," Kyle rolled his eyes at Eric, not up for anymore banter after the blow up, "I'm not in the mood."

"Is it your_ time of the month_?" The brunet snickered, a wicked grin curving on his lips, "Or did you _miss your period_? Oh, Stan didn't get you _pregnant_, did he?"

"Cartman, that's _disgusting_," The redhead scoffed, "Fuck off, I don't want another damn fight."

"Why? Because you know I'd _win_?" The fat boy smirked, knowing well that he had strength on his side at the least.

Kyle opened his mouth, but couldn't think of a reply. _He's right...No! No he isn't! I've beaten the shit out of him before..._ Anger—or some emotion kind of like the one he felt earlier—flared in his eyes.

Cartman smirked, feeding off the flickers of anger like a fire, Kyle's little reactions serving as the kindling to his own amusement. In his book, there was no _too far_ he could push Kyle; and he was just getting warmed up.

"Farvos'du narish gadlen shtupn..." Kyle rasped, Yiddish pouring out of his mouth rather than English with a metallic edge. Kyle knew rather limited Yiddish; and swearing someone out wasn't among that 'limited' vocabulary. _What am I...what did I just say...?_

"What was that, cocksucker?" An eye twitched.

"N-nothing!" He bit his lip, damning the stutter. Stammering only meant that there was an opening of weakness for Cartman to attack. And lord knew he _would_ attack.

"Listen, kike, tell me what you just said or—"

"HEY!" Kenny shot out of his seat, standing between Kyle and Cartman again. His eyes flickered between the boiling brunet and testy redhead, both of the boys on the end of their chains and ready for a fight. _Jesus they're REALLY at it today...I can't stop a brawl...I mean Cartman's got I don't even wanna know how many pounds on me and then there's Kyle's Jersey temper...They're about to fucking kill each other..._

"What the hell is it, Keenny?" Eric sneered, "Kosher boy and I were a little busy."

"I noticed, dumbass," Kenny shot a glare at him, "And I ain't lettin' the two of ya beat the crap outta each other. Now since Ky ain't really much of the violent type and you're the resident asshole, I know this is your fault."

"Getting defensive, White Trash?"

"I don't got many friends, and I'm not letting 'em sock each other's teeth out. Now, Cartman, I know ya ain't really one for nonviolence and leaving Kyle alone, but seriously fuck off. He ain't up for it today so just stop being a douchebag for once in your life and go harass someone else today."

"Pfft, what are ya gonna do? _Tell on meee_?"

"Hey, remember that Dike is gonna have your throat if ya don't scram now. And if ya do try and mess with Ky again, I'll go Ninja Master Kenny on your fat ass and give it to ya good!"

"...Whatever, ya poor piece of crap."Eric stuck his tongue out at them, "I'm not afraid of some stick poking me when I can easily snap it," He waddled for the door, taking earthquake-inducing steps.

"Psch, fuck you. Just roll away and try not to get stuck in the doorway on your way out."

He snapped his head around and glared at Kenny, teeth barred. Rage flashed in Cartman's eyes, the brown nearly turning _red_ in that instant. Something about that glare sent an eerie chill down Kenny's spine.

"Why you little—"

"ERIC CARTMAN!" Ms. Dijkstra called, "You are to exit when I permit you following our conference."

"Aw tits!" He growled, glowering back at the teacher, who returned the look, "_Must_ I stay? I do have class." Learning was the last thing on his mind.

"I shall prepare a form to excuse your tardiness," She said, then looked over at the lagging three in the back, "Kyle, Stanley, Kenneth, I request your trio departs."

"W-we are," Kyle blinked, the odd feeling disappearing, leaving behind a sick aftershock. _Whoa...The fuck is up with me today...? _ He thought briefly before turning to Kenny, "Can you help me wake him up?"

"'Course I can," The blond grinned goofily, slinking behind the jock's desk with an air of boyish glee. Kenny knew there was one way to get Stan to snap out of just about anything; and that was stealing his hat. He yanked the wool cap off right by the puffball, tossing it up in the air and catching it.

"What are you...?" Kyle wasn't sure if Kenny was helping or trying to steal Stan's stuff as a prank for when the ebon finally woke up.

"Hey Stanny," Kenny leaned over and spoke into the jock's ear. He took the hat and pulled it on his head even more lopsided than Stan had it on, "I've got your hat."

From deep in Stan's subconscious, he managed to hear that message. And, like a charm, he started moving, arms stretching out and head lifting up. Kenny jumped back, knowing that it was better to be at a safe distance when poking a quarterback. Kyle simply watched, waiting for his chance to lecture Stan when he was awake.

"K-Kenny...?" Stan murmured, eyes creaking open. He looked in the blond's direction, vision coming into focus until the orange, peach, gold, and blue and red blob morphed into Kenny McCormick wearing Stan's hat, the boy's casual cocky son of a botch grin mocking him, "That's...my hat...!"

"Yeah," Kenny boasted, "I like it. Keeps my head nice and toasty."

"Grrr..." Stan stood up and snatched it right off Kenny's head. Kenny didn't put up a fight, knowing his mission was accomplished.

"Stan," Kyle's eyes flickered to the impatient Ms. Dijkstra and menacing Eric Cartman (_God which of them is scarier?)_, "We have to _go_."

"I'm coming, I'm coming..." He muttered, putting the hat on sloppily and gathering his things. The moment he had his backpack on, Kyle grabbed his arm and started tugging him out of the room, Kenny quick to follow.

"H-hey..." Stan frowned as the three entered the hallway.

Neither Kyle nor Kenny cared about what Stan had to say. They both looked at each other, both thinking the same thing. They read each other's minds and agreed with a nod, knowing exactly what to do with their ebon friend.

Once out of the classroom, they found themselves in the middle of locker traffic, swarms of students squeezing through cluttered halls. The loud slam of the AP Literature classroom was but a soft beat compared to the deafening chatter in the hallway, everyone trying to catch up with their friends on as much as they could in the five minutes they had between classes. The trio remained silent, though, cutting through the sea of people and dragging Stan like a prisoner being guided to his cell.

"Kyle..." Stan spoke louder, noticing that he was being led _away_ from the Calculus room rather than _towards _it, "Where are we going...?" A sickly feeling in his stomach warned him that he didn't want to know the truth. He'd been down the walk they were on before, always by force; he knew what room was just down the hall. _No...They can't honestly be taking me to..._

"Nurse." He replied, curt and cold. The aggravation of Stan insisting he was fine kept pecking at his brain. Something wasn't right—very little about the day seemed right for that matter—and he wasn't just going to shrug it off as nothing. _He needs to get checked out...he needs to...I need to too...b-but Stan's more important...and his issue is probably medical...mine is...oh I don't even know...this day is already screwing with me..._

"N-nurse?" Stan perked up enough to send a shudder down his spine. _No, not __**there**__!_ "K-Kyle, I'm fine! Seriously!"

"Stanny," Kenny said, walking behind him to make sure the ebon wouldn't run away (although Kenny doubted that was possible), "Ya had a deal."

"That was if Dike sent me!" Stan tried to shake Kyle's grip on him, but it was no use; Kyle had a hawk's grip, "P-please Kyle? Can we just go to Calc and solve some stupid equations and shit?

"No, you need _help_," Kyle hissed, yanking the boy's limp arm to get the squirming to stop, "I'm not letting you bumble through the day so don't give me that shit. You're going and that's _final._"

"Jesus, Kyle, are you my mother now?"

"It's called I actually care about your well-being, fuckshit! Now stop bitching about going to the freaking nurse's office."

"Stop yelling at me!"

"I am NOT yelling!" Kyle blinked. _Where did that come from...? _"I'm just...testy today. That's all. Nothing to worry about."

"Ky, did Cartman really get to ya that bad?" Kenny asked. Kyle let Eric's words run off his back like water off a duck most of the time; but this was just funky. It didn't sit right _at all_. _Something's really eatin' him today..._ He thought, _He was talkin' about it earlier but I thought he'd get over it... Oh god, this is KYLE, he doesn't just 'get over it'... Ugh, why the fuck am I so stupid? No use trying to get anything out of him now though...Still...maybe he was right...Okay he's Kyle; he's always right, but still..._

Kyle took a moment to respond, intently staring at the overhanging sign with 'NURSE' written on it. Was it really just Cartman? Did he just wake up in a shitty mood? Was there something wrong with him too? So many questions, but Kyle had no answers.

"This has nothing to do with Cartman; I'm not even mad." He finally murmured.

"Bullshit." Kenny and Stan said in unison.

"You haven't acted like this since Cartman taped a swastika to your back sophomore year." Kenny frowned.

"What's wrong Kyle, just tell us. We're your best friends..." Even with Stan half-asleep, he could tell that Kyle had something on his mind.

"_Nothing's wrong_," The lie left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. Even his body knew something was wrong. _Very wrong..._

"Yeah there is dude!" Stan protested, "I know you, and I know something's going on!"

"Yeah!" Kenny added.

"I don't need either of you assholes to believe me," Kyle rolled his eyes, grasping the cold metal handle of the Nurse's door; "Here's your stop, Stan."

"Kyle, I don't want to go until _you_ tell me what's u—"

But it was too late. Before Stan could finish, Kyle ripped open the door and shoved him inside, using all the force he could muster. The jock stumbled in, nearly crumbling to his knees, catching himself on the cabinet.

"Nurse Gollum!" Kyle called, poking his head in for a brief second, "Stan has to see you!"

"KYL—" Stan growled, turning to glare at the Jew.

_SLAM!_

All Stan got a look at were their backs. The orange-clad duo abandoned him in his least favourite place. _A medical facility._

It was just the school nurse—and the nurse was relatively nice—but that didn't make him any less uneasy. The room still reeked of sickness, there were still medical tools scattered around (not like they were allowed to use them without eighty different paperwork forms of legal permission), and there were still the rock hard beds covered with milky paper and crawled with germs. School nurse or emergency room; that stuff gave Stan goosebumps.

"Assholes..." He muttered, shaking his head at the window. _Fuck you Kyle...fuck you Kenny...both of ya can go blow each other for all I care...DICKS..._

"What was that?" Nurse Gollum, who'd been the elementary nurse before her promotion to the big leagues of big kids the year prior, peeked over from her desk in the corner, "Oh, hello Stan."

Stan looked over to face her, a cloak of dread falling over him. Her lipstick matched her bubblegum pink hair pulled back in a tight bun. The dead foetus twin moulded to her cheek jiggled, making Stan's stomach churn. He was too busy looking at the shrivelled up dead baby to see the woman's comforting, concerned eyes.

"H-h-h-hi...N-Nurse Goll-lum..." He choked out. _God the longer I'm in here the sicker I get..._

"What's wrong?" She stood up, grabbing her stethoscope and walking over to the boy, "Usually you need to be forced in here and restrained, so what's the deal today?"

"Uh..." _Don't look at the foetus don't look at the foetus don't look Stan just don't look at it... _"I...Uh...I wanna..."

The foetus proved too distracting, leaving Stan to babble useless nonsense. The nurse pressed the stethoscope to his heart, listening to Stan's heartbeat instead of his stammering. She was used to not getting an answer due to her 'condition'.

"Hmm...That's odd..." She said, giving the ebon a puzzled look, "It's a bit slow...Though you're an athlete so that's not necessarily a bad sign..."

"L-look," Stan shied back, spinning around on his heels, "I-I-I really should be going to Calc right about—"

"Hold your horses, cowboy," She reached out and grabbed his collar. Her freezing knuckles pressed against the back of his neck sent chills down Stan's spine, turning him into an ice sculpture, "You look like a racoon and if your friends pushed you in here then there's gotta be something wrong. In fact, you weren't kicking and screaming down the hall to come here so that means there's _definitely _something up with you. I'm obligated to keep you here for the period and check on you a little."

"Fuck..." The day was going downhill like a model car at the Pinewood Derby, things only getting worse. He hoped the day would just end already—preferably so he could sleep—and spare him anymore misery. Things were much easier at home...and even easier in his dreams...

_I knew I should've stayed in bed..._ Hopefully, sleep would take over again soon.

* * *

"Kyle...Kyle...KYLE! STOP WALKING SO DAMN FAST!" Kenny chased after Kyle in the hall, trying to get at a quick enough pace to walk next to him rather than trail behind.

"I'm not walking fast, you're just slow," Kyle said, trying to sound more at ease than he was inside. His thoughts buzzed, zipping around his mind, pretending to be bumper cars and crashing into one another. Whenever he thought he was about to make some sort of connection, the thought got rammed by another just as curious one, frustrating the redhead more and more with each crash. Focus eluded him, and each bang brought him back to square one; back to himself.

_Something's wrong with Stan...But what could it be...Oh god, I knew this day was funny...I should've known when I woke up...Maybe Kenny was write about me being off too...Gah, why am I thinking about myself when Stan's likely got medical issues? Then again maybe he just took sleeping pills or something...He's done it before...NO! He has to be sick...he's not THAT stupid...At least not since last time...Ugh, maybe I'm overreacting...__**But I'm **_**always **_**right**__..._

The last thought made him stop dead in his tracks.

_What...what the fuck is up with me today...?_

A pair of hand grabbed him around the shoulder, heated breath tickling the back of his neck.

"GOTCHA!" Even though he was right behind Kyle, Kenny still thought that yelling was the only way to get Kyle out of his pensive little world. It probably _was_ too.

"CHRIST KEN!" Kyle twirled around, ripping out of the boy's grip. He rubbed his ears and temples, trying to soothe his rattling eardrums and rampaging thoughts.

"Well now that I got your attention, care to tell me what's on your mind?" Kenny asked, making a half-pout at the other, "I know you Ky, and you ain't like this unless some shit's going on in that lil' redhead of yours."

"Nothing's going on, Kenny," He turned back around, staring at the long lines of doors, hallway openings, and lockers, looking to see how far he'd need to walk before he'd have to go split from Kenny and walk down the Mathematics halls while Kenny wandered to Art History (given he even went to class). Either way the sooner he was alone, the better.

"What the fuck do I have to do to make ya come clean?" Kenny swooped around, blocking Kyle's path, "Seriously, man, this is kinda bothering me. I mean, Stanny usually does stupid shit like that but when you start freaking out I always get kinda worried. You're kinda the only one with enough brains to figure anything out before bad shit starts going on..."

"That's flattering, Kenny, now get the hell out of my way so I can get to class." Kyle snuck around the blond and kept walking, trying to keep a quick even pace until he got to Calculus.

_**Yes I am the only smart one and you know what nothing's wrong, nope nothing, everything's just fine, Stan's just being stupid and Cartman's likely just pissed about something and is taking it all out on me, so Kenny you can just calm down because I know everything's just fine and...**_

Those didn't feel like his thoughts. They didn't _sound_ like his thoughts. They sounded like some other voice speaking in his head, feeding him sweetly spiteful delights that were shallow yet _pleasing._

_What...? _

He zoned out, eyes fixed blindly ahead. His legs moved with the grace of Frankenstein's monster, destined to cross and make him...

_THUMP!_

...fall.

"_SHIT KYLE_!"Kenny darted over, quick to help the boy up. _Something's definitely off...it smells like something's fucking menstruating on us..._

Kyle stared at the only thing he could see, the floor. The fall jogged him out of his mental whirlpool, but set him too far out to sea to go back and investigate what was going on deep down. _Something_ was in there that was causing it, something that didn't belong in his mind.

_Or maybe I'm just over thinking this again..._

Kenny rolled Kyle over on his back. He stared into the distant green eyes, concern gleaming in the cerulean pools like twisted light on a cloudy day over Stark's Pond. Kyle's pupils looked like a pair of misty abysses, clouded with swirling fogged thoughts that would sooner evaporate than so their true meaning. A dark shadow was cast over the vivid green, looking like some weird trick of the light form a ring of purple around the edges of each abyss.

_Fuck is this a medical problem...? Oh shit, what if he's gonna black out or something? Jesus Christ is there some serious illness going around? _

"Kyle, can ya hear me?" Kenny asked, looming over the redhead even more. He lowered his head more, nose hovering scarcely an inch above Kyle's.

Kyle registered his surroundings again. He was on the floor. Kenny was with him. The halls were empty. He was late for class. His mind was a mess. The front half of his body was in pain. He was still confused. All of those were cold-cut kosher facts.

He blinked a few times, reorganising his thoughts.

_I'm just...freaking myself out...yeah...that's all..._

He waited, thinking there could be a response to prove him wrong. If there was, he'd come clean and try to figure it out.

But there wasn't.

_...Yeah...Everything's okay..._

He shut his eyes, taking deep breaths, chest rising and falling slowly, rapid sea calming as the storm clouds retreated to far reaches of his mind, Kyle sailing to the doldrums.

The scent of cheap beer, pizza crust, and poptarts filled the redhead's nostrils, the warm breath that crept on his neck earlier blowing on his face.

"GOD," His face wrinkled, an eye opening, "Don't you ever brush your freaking teeth?"

"Ya know how much toothpaste costs, Ky. Plus, toothpaste is for losers, I'm like Ke$ha; brush my teeth with a bottle of jack." Kenny smirked, relieved that Kyle didn't start shaking around on the floor with foam spilling out of his mouth.

"That's gross, dude!" Then he realised just how close Kenny was to him, "And why the hell are you _that_ close to my face?"

"Well I had to check ya out!" Kenny invaded Kyle's—and everyone else's for that matter—personal space on a regular basis, "Is that so bad?"

"Dude," Kyle pushed Kenny off away from him, "That's way too close!"

"_Whaaaat_?" He whined, sitting on the ground with a toddler's frowny-face, "Were ya scared I'd like make out with ya or something?"

"Knowing you, I wouldn't be surprised..." Kyle grumbled, sitting up. He brushed his off his jacket and got to his feet, "I'm probably one of the few people you _haven't_ slept with..."

"Hey, I got my reasons for being so busy," He stood up, flipping the frown upside down.

"Oh?"

"Idle hands are the devil's playpen, Kyle. So, I keep _occupied_."

"Yeah, yeah, just don't think I'll help you with that."

"Wasn't expectin' ya to, man. Plus, My schedule's a lil' too booked for me to teach a _virgin_ any of _my_ complicated bed acrobatics."

Kyle narrowed his eyes, a red tinge appearing on his face. Those comments always got him. Kenny burst into laughter. _Priceless pissed off Kyle_.

"Well you aren't busy _now_, are you Casanova?" The redhead smirked. _Check_.

Kenny's laughter died a swift death, mouth hanging open mid-chuckle. "Huh..."

_And mate._

"Still too busy?"

"Well..." Kenny wiggled his brows, stupid expression blossoming into a suave come-hither gaze, "Since I ain't busy I guess we should just have sex now, yeah?"

"Bye, Kenny," Kyle rolled his eyes and started back towards the Calculus room.

"Hey! Wait! We haven't set a date yet!" Kenny called after Kyle as he became an orange and green figure shrinking down the hall, "Come on, Ky! _When do I get to press your smokin' Jewish body up to mine when we make sweet homoerotic love?_ Ky! KY!"

"Go fuck yourself!" Kyle gave him the finger before rounding the bend and vanishing down the maths hall.

Kenny stood alone in the hall, no intention to head to class. How could he go to class? It was just stupid Art History; there were more important _needs_ to be met before sitting around in some ditty classroom listening to old people ramble on and then get yelled at for 'not using his head'.

_I'll be using my head alright...but not the one they're thinkin'..._

"Well..." He sighed, "Looks like I'm goin' on a pussy hunt...though I think I'll need to bide my time by the watering hole before I catch sight of a fine pussy wanderin' around..."

_CRRRRRR! CLUNK CLUNK! SLAM!_

The blond whipped around on his heels, checking to see who was coming out of what classroom. Lord only knew what would happen if one of the teachers came out and caught him standing in the middle of the hallway when he already had skipping record longer than the football field...

Ester Stoley, Kevin's twin sister, backed away from the Astronomy classroom. Like her brother, she was one of the more nerdy ones at school, trying to be popular but staying confined to her social box thanks to her interests, complexion, and B cups. With low popularity came low self-esteem; and those targets were always easy for Kenny.

"Hey, Ester," Kenny said, prowling up to the girl like a lion approaching a sky and bubblegum zebra.

She gasped, twirling around.

"K-K-Kenny..." She stammered, absent-mindedly twiddling her fingers, "H-hi..."

"What? Ya scared of me?" Kenny tilted his head, taking another step towards the girl, "Come on, I'm your brother's friend, no need to be shy."

"R-r-right..." Ester took a few steps back, glancing at the floor. Kenny noticed her cheeks darken.

_Hook..._

"Ya ain't doing the best job convincin' me that everything's okay," He walked up to her, reaching out to grab her shoulders.

She backed up right into the lockers, pressing her back to the cold metal as Kenny's warm hands grasped around her bony shoulders.

"I'm sorry," Ester muttered, eyes fixed on her pink Converse, "I'm just having an off day, K-Kenny..."

"Hey, don't look down at the floor; my face is right up here," He ran a hand up her shoulder blade and neck, tilting her head up.

Her light toffee eyes stared at Kenny's face. The come hither-look tempted her—like it did just about anyone who saw it—making some of her girlish emotions flicker inside. The smouldering look in the cerulean hypnotised her, making every part of her body freeze. And that smirk...

_Line..._

"Now Ester," Kenny smiled, leaning closer to her face, "Don't be scared of ol' KenKen here. I'm your typical nice guy. And ya know, I'm gonna do a nice thing for ya."

"Y-yeah?" She choked out, quivering.

"Yup," His face was right in front of hers, lips nearly touching, breath brushing against Ester's trembling rose petals, "What's say I give ya a taste of somethin' real nice 'fore ya go back to class. I'm sure you'll like it, all the girls do. It'll make ya feel like the most important girl ever and make your day a hell of a lot better than it is right now."

"I-I..."

"Come on..."

"B-bu..."

"Come on..."

"Kenny I was just going to the bathr—"

"And then ya ran into me and I changed your plans, hmm?"

"You know I really should be..."

"Shhh..."

He pressed his rough lips against hers—just a soft kiss to lure her to him. He felt her entire body tremble as kissed her. It was all part of the game; the closer she got to the Richter scale the closer he'd get to having her naked.

_And..._

Kenny pulled back, gazing down at the Stoley girl. Her cheeks were on fire, eyes wide.

"Well?" He purred.

She bit her lip, eyes flickering around the deserted hallway, thinking her choices over. Kenny's offer was tempting—oh just so tempting—but could she do it? One look back into the smouldering gaze cleared her mind up enough to make a decision.

"Well...It is just Astronomy...A-and you are cute...and all..."

A sly, satisfied smirk curved on his lips.

_Sinker._

* * *

"Please tell me I can go now..." Stan whined, watching Nurse Gollum have a staring contest with the thermometer. He squirmed on the cot, the crinkling of the rice paper scratching against his skull. She made him lay down and ran all sorts of tests on him yet the woman was dissatisfied that the results were _healthy, _"I think we may be having a quiz or something and I don't wanna make it up..."

"Stop whining," She snapped, "Really, in all my years I've never seen or heard of a _jock_ _**wanting**_ to take a maths quiz."

"I'm not your average jock?" He smiled sheepishly. _Please let that work..._

"Nice try," The nurse rolled her eyes, shaking the thermometer gingerly, "Now, Stan, I know you wanna get out of here but not everything medically bad can affect your vital organs directly."

"Please don't talk about organs..."

"I won't, I was just saying that not everything can be told from a pulse check and a thermometer in the mouth; some can be diagnosed just by looking at a person."

"If I'm sick can you just send me home?" Home sounded like heaven to him.

"I'm afraid I can't...but I can let you crash here the rest of the period," She smiled, "Just shut your eyes and get some rest. Even though all the vital checks came back without any terminal disease doesn't mean that I can't tell a sleep deprived boy when I see one. You look like a racoon."

"But..." A part of him—a growing part of him—whispered that sleep was good even if it was in the Nurse's. The rest of his mind kept trying to talk sense into him, only to slowly lose to sleepiness.

"Stan, just relax and get a little sleep. I'll wake you up in about half an hour forty-five minutes, Kay?"

"...Kay..." Sleep won by a landslide, Stan closing his eyes as the reply slipped out of his mouth.

"_Good..."_ Her words were distant, Stan falling back to sleep, his dreamland welcoming him like an old friend.

He would finally be able to get some of that relaxing sleep he'd been yearning for...

At least he thought he would.

* * *

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. _Shit."_ Kyle muttered, frantically glancing around in case a rouge hall monitor found him and tried to staple a referral to his head, "Fucking Stan. Fucking Kenny. Now I'm fucking late. God fucking Dammit..."

He walked faster as he neared the classroom, concocting the perfect explanation to tell Mr. Rios.

_I don't even need to make up a damn excuse, I have a legitimate reason...well to an extent...I could've been on time if Kenny wasn't pestering me...Though he is kind of right...K-kind of..._

_**No, what am I thinking, Kenny's wrong! I'm perfectly fine; it's just the day is all! Stan's being an idiot and Kenny's being annoying! Nothing that unusual! And then there's Cartman and he's just, well, Cartman...But just because he's pissed is no reason for me to be scared! I can beat him up if he tries anything! I was just overacting before! I have **_**nothing**_** to worry about! I feel **_**better already**_**!**_

Kyle froze, catching the odd voice in his head again. He had no idea what to even feel. Common sense screamed at him to be frightened, that this wasn't right, that some intruder had somehow broken in. Yet at the same time the words were..._comforting. _

He _did_ feel better, the groundless reason rooting in his mind and giving him a sense of security. Stan being an idiot wasn't that unusual. Kenny being annoying wasn't that out of the ordinary. Cartman being pissed off beyond belief wasn't hard to believe. And Kyle overreacting wasn't all that shocking either.

_Y-yeah...Maybe that's it...just overreacting..._

The thought didn't sit well. It frightened him even more than the voice. But he didn't have time to think about it any longer, he still had to deal with Calculus.

_If anything...I can just talk to Stan later_

_**But he's being too much of an idiot today so I bet he wouldn't understand a fucking word I said...**_

_...or maybe Kenny next period..._

_**He's pretty incompetent...**_

_But I can still talk to him..._

_**Like he'll listen...**_

_If anything talking to him'll make me feel less insane..._

_**He'd just make stupid comments...**_

_But that would tell me things were back to normal..._

"Yeah..." Kyle breathed, grabbing the door handle to class, "I'll just talk to Kenny...or something..."

_**Even if it's pointless...**_

"_Even if it's—_no...It won't be..." He shook his head and opened the door, walking blindly into class. He _hoped_ someone would yell at him just to get him out of his hurricane of clashing thoughts that would drive him insane.

"_KYLE!"_

Rather than Mr. Rios snapping at him, the voice that called out was one he knew a little better.

_Wendy._

"Wha?" He took a moment to look around the room, his brain running slower than normal (_I should've gotten more sleep last night, that's all)_.

All the desks were lined up, everyone toying with the worksheets on their desks, no angry Portuguese maths teacher in sight. Wendy stared at Kyle from her seat in the front row, hazel eyes locked on the redhead, a dim, somewhat crazed glint to them. Her smooth inky hair was only half brushed, strands sticking out and frizzing. Her clothes were as dishevelled as Stan's, beret about to fall of her head, violet jacket slipping off her shoulders, and tee-shirt on backwards with the tag sticking out. Kyle wasn't scared of Wendy, but today she had the air of a 'psycho bitch'.

"Kyle!" Wendy sprung up, abandoning her sheet of busywork and rushing up to him, "Oh my god, _where's Stan_? _Where is he? Why the fuck are you late_? Huh?" She said it all in one breath, ever word ran into one another. She could've given Tweek a run for his money.

"Wendy, calm down," Kyle held up his hands, trying to get her to back off, "He's just at the nurse's office. He—"

"_Why the fuck is he there?"_

"...was really tired in class and Ken and I took him to get checked out. We both left him with Nurse Gollum and he should be getting the help he needs."

"He doesn't need any help from _her_! Dammit, Kyle, you should've told me earlier that there was something wrong with him!" Her voice sounded strained, nearly cracking. She looked like she was about to short circuit or explode if she didn't get an answer she wanted soon. And Kyle barely said anything.

"Wendy...Nothing's wrong with him..." He lied, hoping to keep her from flipping out, "Just...go back to your seat...and everything will be fine...he's just getting some rest...Okay?"

She stared him a long moment, growing no calmer but not showing signs of going into frenzy. That was good, right?

"Well...I-I guess..." She muttered, "I still don't see why you didn't tell _me_ immediately."

"We didn't see you, sorry..." Kyle shrugged.

"_AHEM_!"

Kyle spun around, only to see Mr. Rios looming over him. He stared up at the peeved pea green eyes glaring him down, using supervision to turn Kyle to shrink Kyle down and make him even easier to push around.

"Mr. Rios..." Kyle bit his lip, "I can expl—"

"Tardy, Brof-love-ski," He said, expression cold as stone, "Go sit down and work on your problems."

"Yes sir..."

"You're lucky you're one of my favourites and the class star, or I'd give you a detention," The word stung Kyle, reminding him that he already had one of _those_ anyway, "And Testaburger, you take your seat too. I expect my second number crusher to be working busily as well."

"Right...sorry sir..." Wendy murmured. She shot Kyle a look—one that was a mix of a glare and grimace—and then went back to her seat.

Kyle nodded, a bit confused by the raven-haired girl's behaviour, and then slunk to his spot in the corner, whipping out a pencil to start filling in answers.

_God, Wendy's bitchier than normal..._

_**Probably on her period...**_

_Or something...I guess..._

_**Psycho bitch...**_

_She's just worried about Stan...I don't blame her..._ He glanced over at the vacant seat next to him, the one usually taken by his best friend, _Stan's just..._

_**Being a lazy ass again and leaving me with his crazy girlfriend like the dick he is...**_

_Yeah he—wait..._

Kyle blinked, sorting through his thoughts again. Was he still thinking? Or was it that voice?

'_That voice', Jesus if I keep thinking like that I'm going to drive myself to the nuthouse...I just have to keep calm and do some Calculus...Yeah...Nothing to be worried about...Just maths..._

He looked up a moment, checking the board to see what problems on the sheet he had to do. He caught Wendy staring—no, _glaring_—at him. Once their eyes met, they both shuddered and went back to work.

_He's keeping something from me about Stan..._ Wendy thought, digging the graphite into the thin beige worksheet, _I know there's something wrong...there's something very wrong..._

_Don't worry about her Kyle..._He told himself, taking a deep breath and looking back at the numbers, _Just look at the numbers and everything will be FINE..._

Fine never felt so out of place.

* * *

Dark and humid.

The janitor's closet captured all the heat and kept it bottled up. AC didn't mean jack, the temperature going through the roof whether the vents were clean or not. But that was just how Kenny liked it, _steamy_.

Only a thin pale ray of light shot in through the crack in the door, the rest engulfed in blackness. Ester couldn't see Kenny. Kenny couldn't see Ester. But they could _feel_ each other just fine. Kenny wouldn't have it any other way.

_Thrust._

_Thrust._

_Thrust._

Pants around the ankles.

Hands groping a pair of pasty breasts.

Dick hammering up into a chick's vagina.

Same old story.

Same old thrills.

Same old Kenny.

_Thrust._

_Thrust._

_Thrust._

"Ah..." Soft mewls and sweet moans came from the girl. She'd been easily seduced and took the experience well. She panted as the heat of the 'love' came over her, suffocating her. Then there was the pleasure—the type that didn't seem human at all—that pulsed through her, shooting through her veins with every drop of blood and adrenaline.

"H-harder...K-K-Kenny..." She begged, digging her fingernails into Kenny's skin, "Pl-please..._harder_..."

Kenny smiled with a grunt. He pumped harder, just as she said. Sweat dotted his forehead. His breathing pattern was choppy and uneven, trying not to breath in too much of the air trapped in the room. The thick taste of salt covered his tongue, the moisture in the air mocking him.

He wasn't in it for love—he never was—he just wanted the thrill, the fun, and the pleasure.

_Nothing else._

_Come on..._ He thought, massaging the girl's clammy skin, pressing her breasts together, _Come on... Just a lil' more... Gah, all I want is to fucking come already!_

He kept going, thrusting in harder and harder, more focused on his pleasure than hers (though the moans made a fitting background soundtrack). Just a one damn release and he'd be good for the rest of the school day... Just one climax...

"Kenny...I... don't know... if I...can last... much..." She gasped.

"Shut up!" He growled. Of all the people he picked it had to be one of the goodie-toe shoes. _At least I'm gettin' some at all..._

She shut her mouth, staring at Kenny through the darkness. She knew where he was, she felt him touch her, hell she felt him /in/ her; and now all she heard the logical voice in her mind urge her to get back to class.

_But it still __**felt**__ so __**good**__._

_Shit...she's gettin' all good girl on me... I need to distract her... Just for a little..._

He leaned towards her, pressing his lips to the nape of her neck. Bitches loved necking.

She gasped, her qualms melting away like ice on a hot summer day. Kenny bit down, pulling the vampire card to buy him a bit more time.

And just when he was about to release.

_Almost there..._

_THRUST!_

_Almost...there..._

_THRUST!_

_ALMOST FUCKING THERE..._

And he came.

"Ahhhh..." He breathed, feeling the tension disappear, letting go into his latest bedroom conquest. He rolled his head back, smiling, savouring the moment when pleasure coursed through him as semen squirted out.

_Now that's what I'm talkin' about...WOO... I feel better than I have in AGES... Once again, Kenny McCormick, sex god of South Park, gets another one..._

He closes his eyes, basking in his little victory while he pulled out of her.

The moment he closed his eyes, everything was _blue_. He wasn't just looking at his eyelids, he was seeing _something_. And whatever it was, it _burned_.

"Fuck..." He pushed Ester back, rubbing his eyes, "Sssss...Shit..." He blinked, trying to get the pain to subside.

"Hey!" She shouted, banging against the shelves, "Don't manhandle me!"

"Honey, I fucked ya in a closet, I think manhandling is outta the question...SHIT THAT BURNS!" Kenny peddled back, wondering when his eyes decided to sweat acid.

"You okay, McCormick?"

Ester didn't say that.

"Oh I'm just _peachy_..." He grumbled, "_Fucking peachy_..."

He opened his eyes, seeing blue as his eyes adjusted to the light. _Light?_

The janitor stood in the doorway, arms crossed, glaring at the duo caught right in (more after) the act. Ester stared at the man, trying to cover herself, turning a brilliant fire engine red.

"Oh...Hi..." Kenny pursed his lips, eyes wandering around. _Fuck...Caught... Again..._

"Young lady, dress yourself and toddle back to class, I know this ain't your fault."

Ester nodded, and then closed her jacket as quick as she could. She pulled her bottoms up and scurried out, one hand holding up her pants and the other holding her jacket shut.

"Later, Stoley!" Kenny shouted to her, smirking.

"McCormick, pull up your pants and go to the office. I think Mr. Garrison should have another talk with you about fucking girls in my custodial closet." The janitor frowned.

"Yes sir..." He sighed, doing as the man said.

"Do ya have _any _shame, son?"

"Well if I did I wouldn't be screwing chicks in your closet, now would I?"

"March your ass over to Garrison's before I beat ya with a mop."

"Whatever ya say, sir," The blond shrugged, cruising out of the closet as though nothing even happened. His legs went on auto-pilot, taking him on the walk to the office he'd taken so many times.

_Well that was fun...'Cept for my eyes burning that was weird...Must be a health issue or something stupid like that...Meh whatever, I got my second period fuck in...Even if I got caught...Whatever, it was worth it to get some...Even if it felt like just a little..._

With his little strike of pleasure from the 'I just had sex!' moment, Kenny felt a bit of _disappointment_ accenting it. He'd gotten what he wanted—easy sex—but it just wasn't enough.

He wanted more.

_I mean it was just Kev's sister...Who better not tell her brother or he's gonna stick a fucking lightsaber up my ass...So maybe I should try again later...hopefully get a better bitch who knows how to make a fucker come instead of screechin' in the corner..._

Probably wasn't his best idea picking the first random girl to wander out of class, but it was enough to hold him over. At least until lunch.

_Eh...There's always lunch time to feed my appetite...And next time I'll get me a DEEP one..._

That prospect kept him smiling all the way to the principal's.

* * *

Hissing.

All Stan could hear was endless hissing.

_Hssssssssss..._

_Hsssssssssssssss..._

_HSSSSSSSSSSSSSS..._

His skin crawled as scales wrapping around his limbs, slithering all over him. He felt it on his feet, on his legs, on his torso, on his arms, on his back, even on his neck.

The scent of burning flesh and smoke suffocated him, making his stomach churn and curdle. The odour overwhelmed him; burning his nostrils every time he took a breath. He tried to breathe through his mouth, but when he did the taste of burnt, rotting skin came with it, the horrid flavour lingering on his tongue.

_HSSSSSSSS..._

The hissing grew louder, coming from every direction. It echoed, the noise hitting against the walls of whatever cavity he was in and then banging around in his head.

_Where am I...?_

He carefully opened his eyes, a looming feeling of regret lurching in the back of his head.

Snakes.

Snakes were everywhere.

There were snakes on the ground.

Snakes on the walls.

Snakes on _him._

The coal black reptiles all hissed and slithered around him, some trying to climb onto him, others still plotting and planning when they'd get their chance. Pink forks flashed here and there, sensing the fear of the ebon trapped in the middle.

Stan stared into their forever open eyes, every a menacing crimson. In the centre, he could see that there was something else in their eyes, some sort of glowing red symbol, but he couldn't make out what it was.

He didn't _want_ to make out what it was. What he _wanted_ was to _get the fuck OUT of there._

"Holy shit!" He shouted, shaking the snakes off his arms. He frantically looked around, watching the snakes fly off him and then glare at him, determined to get back on their human perch.

Stan twirled around, scanning the ground to see if there was an inch that wasn't covered with slithering demons. Everywhere he turned he saw woven mats of sinister scales moving together like a single entity.

He turned his attention to the walls, hoping to find a door or a window—_something_ he could use to escape.

Snakes poked their heads out of holes in the dirt walls, slinking out of the holes one by one, always followed by another snake. The walls were tall, towering high above him, the endless network of snake holes ceasing at the halfway point. After that point, the walls were completely smooth, dirt packed tight enough to be strong as rock and virtually unclimbable.

Stan followed the walls all the way to the top, noticing that there wasn't a ceiling; and that he wasn't in some primitive room.

He was in a _pit._

A small circle high above him let in dim orange light, scarcely lighting the floor of the pit. To get to the top would mean climbing the height of a building a good two or three stories high. That was, if he could get past the snakes and somehow used Spiderman powers to climb the rest of the way.

Stan gulped, feeling the snakes climb all over him again as he gazed up at the only exit, the one impossible to reach. He was trapped. In a pit. With _snakes_.

_No wonder Indiana Jones hates these fuckers..._

"H-heeeeeelp!" He yelled. Would anyone hear him? Was anyone even there _to_ hear him? He didn't know for sure but Stan was ready to try anything.

He waited, listening to his voice echo and the snakes hiss as he prayed for a response.

_There's gotta be someone...There's just gotta be..._

Just then, an inky shadow peeked into the hole, blocking out most of the light. He couldn't make out any distinguishing features, only seeing a black head and shoulders with a halo of orange.

Whoever—or whatever—had answered his call; Stan saw it as a hope for him.

"Hey! C-can you help me out?" Stan pleaded, pulling some snakes off his arms as the creatures ganged up on him.

The figure shook its head.

"Then can you—GAH!" He yanked a snake off his shoulder blade and flung it against the wall, "Get someone to help? Or something? Like a really long rope, or a ladder, or a—"

"I'm not helping you, Stan." The figure said in a low, grating, _demonic_ voice.

Stan blinked, taken aback. People didn't speak in voices like that unless a special effects crew got their hands on the audio to make the villain sound more sinister. It sounded like a clip from the Exorcist or some horror movie rather than someone actually talking to him.

"You're going to die there," The voice went on, "Die down there and rot."

"_WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?_"

"_Silence_!" The figure snapped. Two bright ruby eyes opened, shining grimly down on the boy in the pit.

"The hell..." Stan's eyes widened. Every muscle in his body tensed, frozen in sheer terror.

He'd seen horror movies, he'd had nightmares, and he'd lived most of his life being friends with Cartman (who practically was a spawn of Satan); but never before was he as terrified as he was staring into those glowing red eyes.

Wicked cackles filled the air, the sound spiralling down the hole and taunting him. Every demented chuckle was a blow to his mentality, the laughter reaching inside him and tearing him up.

_Could sounds even __**do**__ that?_

He forgot about the snakes entirely, letting the reptiles slither and wrap around him. They shot out of their little holes and slunk up to the boy. The snakes filled the hole like pouring water, the level of wiggling monsters rising.

Stan was ankle deep in snakes.

Then knee deep.

Then waist deep.

Then shoulder deep.

Then neck deep.

Sleek scales brushed against his face, creatures constricting around his skull as more were on the way. All the while the ebon kept staring up at the ruby orbs, mesmerised by the laughter.

The maniacal cackles were still in his head after everything went black...

* * *

"STAN! STAN! _STAN_!" Nurse Gollum cried, shaking the boy's arm.

"Sna...Gah...N-no..." He murmured. His head rolled around on the pillow, body squirming as the nightmare visions kept attacking him. His mind became a prison, sleep chaining him down, unable to escape alone.

"STAN!" Nurse Gollum shouted, "STAN! Oh screw it..." With no other resorts, she took a stern hand and slapped Stan square across the face, also slapping him out of his dream.

His eyes shot open, staring vacantly at the room, absorbing everything.

The snakes were gone.

The pit was gone.

The shadow was gone.

The eyes were gone.

Stan was safe in the Nurse's office, the kindly woman at his side, and no sign of any stray reptiles.

It was all a dream.

"Stan?" The nurse leaned over him, making sure she didn't make things worse slapping him, "A-are you awake? And alright? I kinda had to slap you to wake you up so sorry about that..."

_Blink. Blink. Blink._

"I'm...I'm okay..." Stan said, "Just...bad dream..."

"Uhuh..." She glanced at the clock a moment, "Well...It's class change...and I can't have you sleeping in my office all day...so I better let you go off to class...is that okay?"

He hesitated, torn between begging to stay and agreeing with her.

Sticking around in the nurse's sounded like a shitty way to spend the day, but he could get more sleep. But after _that_ dream...he wasn't up for another vivid adventure to the spookiest reaches of his subconscious. As much as he wanted to go back to sleep (_How the fuck am I still tired?_), his decision to return to class was set in stone.

_Whether I regret it or not..._

"I'll go," He answered, rolling off the bed and slinking to the door, "Thanks for letting me rest...and stuff..."

"Try to have a good day, Stan," She frowned, "You're too young to be senile."

"Whatever..." Stan opened the door, noticing a few students already wandering the halls, "Have a nice day..."

"You too, Stan...you too..."

He really hoped he would.

* * *

**A/N: Well this chapter gave me a load of hell. I sort of wish I could fix it up more, but I thought that dwelling on it anymore would drive me insane. Not to mention the latest episode had me in tears...Now we must wait until October for shit to be explained. **

**Gah, hopefully you won't need to wait until October for a new chapter of this to come in. Things are moving, just really slowly (I know I hate it too). Kyle's hearing voices, Stan's having nightmares, Kenny's getting random eye issues, and Wendy's looking crazy. You'll look more into Wendy next chapter (also, I don't want to hear any Wendy trashing!) and perhaps Bebe and Butters will finally show the fuck up. Oh and Cartman should be in it a little more. **

**Basically, stick around, cause shit's just getting started and there's a hell of a lot more to come! I'll try and update soon as I can, but I've found myself rather busy these days and I kinda need to get re-jazzed about this story. And I have to stop crying over s-15 e-07. These chapters usually take a lot out of me anyway.**

**Thanks for reading, I know that was a lot (and you read heterosex! Le shocker), and I thank you. Please leave a review! I know this was a lot to look at but I want some feedback. I wanna talk to my readers, dammit! ;;A;; **

**Alright, pets, that's all for this chapter. Stay tuned for more Satanic sinful fun! ~CQO**


	5. Push Away

The memories of the vivid nightmare plagued Stan as he walked towards the Marine Biology room. His head hung low, staring at the ground with half-open eyes. He felt even worse than he did before, wanting to sleep but dreading falling back into that hellish nightmare (for some reason, he _knew_ he'd fall back into that nightmare if he tried).

If he slept, he'd be fucked. If he stayed up he'd be fucked. Lose-Lose situation.

_Fuck everything... God I'm tired as shit and then I have a creepyass dream so I don't wanna sleep even though I'm about to fucking fall over... The fuck is wrong with me today... Shit shit shit..._

His thoughts wandered, fading in and out, constantly eluding to the nightmare. Even while awake he still felt a part of him still in that pit. Part of him still stood deep inside the hole, clawing up, screaming for help as the deafening hissing and sick cackling filled his eardrums, scales brushing against him and forked tongues flicking at him. The felt a part of him—a small practically imperceptible part—gone, missing with no explanation.

He didn't want explanations, though; he wanted things to go back to making goddamn sense. And, from the looks of it, his pray would go unanswered a long while.

"HEY! STAN!" A high-pitched cheery voice called.

Stan stopped, looking behind him, sifting through the crowd for the owner of that all too familiar voice.

From a mob leaving the Euro classroom popped out Butters, beaming like a ray of rainbow sunshine as usual. Stan noticed nothing out of the ordinary (not that his perception skills were sharp as they _normally_ were), Butters appearing to remain the same boy he'd been on Friday. He still had his happy baby face with a smile that put cherubs to shame. His tuff of messy sunshine hair was combed the exact same way as always, and he had on his usual turquoise jacket and green pants, all neat and clean. Even the gleam in his sky blue eyes matched the norm for the boy. With all the oddities of the day so far, Stan was relieved to find a friendly face to talk to regain a level head. _Even if it was Butters_.

"Hi Butters," Stan mumbled, blinking slowly as the blond skipped over.

"Gee Stan, whatcha doing over here?" Butters asked. He pouted his lips and tilted his head, crossing his arms as well. He always got animated when he talked.

"What do ya mean? I'm going to class." The ebon said, his lips curving down at the rate of a giant sloth.

"Well you and Wendy and Kyle are usually on the other side of the school! I mean, did ya..." He glanced around, on the lookout for any stray teachers. He leaned in and whispered in a nearly frightened, "Cut class?"

"What? No... I was in the Nurse's. Kyle and Kenny dragged me there and I had to stay there the whole period." Stan leaned back a little, wanting a more space between his personal bubble and Butters'.  
"Oh..." He leaned back, rocking on his heels and twiddling his fingers, "Just checkin'. No need to get sore at me or anything."

"Please, I don't need any more people pissed at me..." Stan murmured, talking to himself rather than Butters.

"What? Stan, are people mad at ya?"

The childish curiosity in his voice was _painful_ to listen to. He was one of the oldest boys in the grade yet he talked, acted, and thought like a seven year old. Most people—Stan among them—wanted to yell at him for his gullible innocence, but no one had the heart. Even _Craig_ didn't have the heart. He still got picked on, but they never directly insulted his behaviour (especially when it was easy to use against him).

Stan sighed. No, his heart was too soft to tell Butters to fuck off. Whether he'd regret it or _really_ regret it, he had to spill.

"Kyle and Ken are kinda...mad at me I think..." He admitted, talking in a low, garbled voice.

"D'aww," Butters frowned patting Stan on the back and giving him a one-armed hug, "Do ya wanna talk about it? We are going to the same place."

Stan grunted. Butters interrupted that as a 'Yes' and started leading him towards their room.

"So what happened? Are they just grumpy or do ya think ya did something to make 'em mad?"

"I...I dunno..." Stan kept his eyes on the floor, ignoring the arm around his shoulder. Thankfully everyone knew Butters was the touchy-feely and wouldn't scream about Stan having some gay cheating affair. That didn't make it any less bothersome though, "Like... I've been really tired today and... Everything's kinda... Blurry..."

"UH-huh," The blond nodded, "Did ya get much sleep last night? Ya have real dark bags under your eyes li—"

"Like I haven't slept a wink, I know," He snipped, "I slept all fucking night and woke up tired as shit. Then I had some damn coffee, drank it all, and slept on the busy anyway. Then Garrison called Ken and KY and me to his office to bitch at us for breathing then sent us back to class. And then Dike gave me a motherfucking detention for nodding off in class and then I fell back asleep. Then Ken and KY dragged me to the fucking Nurse and has her run all sorts of tests on me only for me to be fine and just sleep! That's all I've done all fucking morning is fucking sleep and now I'm having these fucking nightmares that give Freddy a run for his money and—"

"Hold on there, Stan..." Butters thought a moment, wearing a pensive face, "What kind of nightmares are we talkin' about?"

"Bad ones."

"Well...how bad?"

"I just fucking told you they were bad!"

"Oh... What happened them?"

"Well... I technically just had one but... That one nightmare was like... Every nightmare I had as a little kid rolled into one fear-wise..." He grimaced, the memories swirling around on the surface of his mind, polluting his mind like algae on the top of an otherwise clean pool.

"...And?" Butters waited for him to go on, hoping he wasn't pushing Stan to say something he wanted to keep private.

"Basically..." Stan bit his lip, "Basically I...I wa—"

_"STAN!"_

Stan and Butters snapped their heads down one of the hallways, Wendy charging at them at full speed. She shoved everyone in her path, muttering a few ''Xcuse me! Sorry!'s as she rushed towards her boyfriend. Her eyes were locked on Stan, the lights reflecting off her eyes, showing how her hazel eyes had more of a green sheen to them.

From behind her, the boys could see Kyle hopping through the crowd, weaving through and knocking into other students, receiving many dirty looks from those he bumped into.

Butters and Stan stopped, braving themselves for Wendy the human bullet to stop.

Wendy leapt over, arms outstretched. She wrapped her arms around Stan's neck, clinging to him like a baby sloth to its mother. Butters jumped back, taking his hand off Stan. Stan stumbled back, trying to maintain balance. .Wendy was locked on, Stan wearing her like a necklace. She buried her face in his chest, rubbing her cheek on the material, making little sniffling sounds.

"Oh Stan... I've been so worried..." She acted as though he'd left on a two year trip to the Bermuda Triangle instead of just spending a weekend at his house.

"Hey babe..." Stan said, hugging her back lightly. He took a moment to process what just happened, all of it moving far too fast for him to keep up with.

Kyle reached the group, wheezing and tripping over his own feet. He stopped at Butters' side, crouching on his knees and panting like a dog, tongue out and all. He stared a long moment at a rather 'off' Wendy clinging to a rather unresponsive Stan, thinking things over.

_Something's funny about this..._

_**Then again what isn't funny about their relationship?**_

Damn that voice.

"Oh, hey Kyle," Butters said, smiling at the exhausted redhead.

Kyle glanced up, disgusted Butters' oblivious happy grin. On any other day, he wouldn't care how the guy acted but seeing him so blatantly happy while everything was off made him sick.

"Hi..." Kyle said, standing up straight. He gave Butters a sceptical look over, half expecting him to turn into Mr. Hyde.

"How are you?" He didn't understand scepticism.

"...Not that good, Butters..." Kyle's gaze shifted over to the school's star couple. Wendy was nuzzling her cheek against Stan's coat, whimpering like an abandoned puppy in need of loving shelter while Stan stroked her back, eyes fighting to remain open. He was losing the battle.

"How come?" Butters bent over, making sure to look Kyle in the eyes _and_ block his view.

"Because..." Kyle groaned, "Everyone today has been acting funny and I don't like it."

"Oh?"

"_Yes_, now if you excuse me for _one_ minute..." Kyle pushed Butters out of the way, too annoyed to care about being polite—at least to Butters. He walked over to Stan, standing a couple of steps behind Wendy.

Stan blinked, staring at the Semite. His eyes weren't their usual lively azure, Kyle noting that they'd turned a milkier lighter blue since AP Literature.

_Not good..._

_**Trick of the light...**_

"Stan," Trick or not Kyle still wanted to talk about it.

"Hmm?" He raised a brow.

Wendy turned her head to look at Kyle, an electric spark in her gaze warning him that he was going in a danger zone; enter at own risk.

Kyle flinched, zeroing in on Stan and pretending that Wendy wasn't acting like a territorial lioness.

"Can I...talk to you?" He was planning already on talking to Kenny, but Stan was still his best friend and thus obligated to a little in on things. That was what best friends did, right?

"Uh...Su—"

"Kyle, he can't now. You of all nerds should know class starts in a few minutes," Wendy quipped, "Stan and I need to head to Marine Biology and _you_ need to run off to Psych."

Kyle stared at her, outraged. Did she really just say that? True, Wendy was a bit possessive and sometimes said a few _polite_ things _suggesting_ that she wanted her alone time with Stan; but she never made an outright _bitchy_ move to send the message _'Fuck off'_.

_**That little bitch how dare she say that to me...**_

"Stan?" Kyle asked, hoping he'd remember the golden rule of 'Bros before Hos'.

"Well... I... I guess I wanna get to class and shit..." Stan trailed off. He didn't notice Wendy's attitude or Kyle's desperation, spending too much energy forcing his body awake to pay the real world much extra attention.

"Exactly," Wendy unlatched herself from Stan's neck, hooking one of her arms through her boyfriend's and smiling, "Bye Kyle." On that note, she clicked her heels and started towards the Marine Bio class, pulling Stan has her limp rag doll boyfriend.

Kyle watched, narrowing his eyes at the ebony couple as they dissolved into the crowd of students. He clenched his hands into fists, his temper a Molotov cocktail waiting for a spark.

"Kyle..." Butters observed the whole thing, getting bits and pieces of the situation and realising why Kyle was so angry, "Do y—"

**"**_**Fuck them,"**_Kyle spat. It could've been him talking. It could've been the voice. It didn't matter when both of them agreed.

Butters covered his mouth like a child who just said a potty word himself. _Maybe h-helpin' people when they're this snippy isn't a good idea... I don't wanna get hollered at..._

Kyle turned on his heels and marched off to Psych, simmering like am egg on a frying pan. If he didn't talk to Kenny soon, he'd likely pop his yolk.

Butters remained in the hall, looking between where Kyle went and where Wendy and Stan went, taking the scrambled pieces of the day's social jigsaw puzzle and jam them together.

_Hmm... Let me think here... Gotta act like Inspector Butters for this...I-I do wanna help out my friends and all...hmmm..._

_BRING! BRING! BRING!_

"Oh hamburgers!" He realised class was about to—or _was_—beginning. He scurried off down the hall, making a dash for the Marine Biology room, hoping things would start to make more sense there.

* * *

Kenny cruised down the hall, hands in his pockets and a smile on his face, winking at all the girls (and a couple of guys too) as they looked his way. Garrison gave him a quick rant, popped a few aspirins, and then let him go without any further punishment.

Kick over pencils? Detention.

Fuck bitches? Quick scolding and forget the matter.

Clearly the school had the best priorities.

He strolled passed the Art History room, knowing that he was only two doors away from his next class. He glanced in through the window, seeing Mr. Sacco at his desk, shooing off the lagging students. He sped up, not wanting the teacher to look up and ask why Kenny wasn't in class

_When the fuck is he gonna figure out I fucking hate his class and THAT'S why I barely show up? Stay cool, man...Just keep walking and he probably didn't see ya..._

"_Hey Kenny!" _

The blond spun around on his heels only to see Bebe Stevens standing before him, peppy as every other cheerleader. Her glossy candy apple lips curved in a smile when Kenny turned her way, flashing him her perfect pearly whites.

"Bebe, baby," Kenny nodded and smirked, "Nice to see ya..." His wandering eyes went from her crystal blue eyes down to her 'perky' chest.

"My eyes are on my face, retard," She crossed her eyes and rolled her eyes, wondering when she'd finally slap that boy across the face to fix his little eye contact problem.

"I can't help it!" Kenny shrugged, "'Sides, the red makes 'em even pointier."

"Ugh..." Bebe shook her head, blonde curls shimmering like spun gold in the light, "You're such a fucking pervert, ya know that?"

"Pervy and proud. Now, ya gonna walk with me, bitch?" Kenny looked passed her, checking to make sure Sacco didn't wander out and catch him, "I'm on the run from Mr. Paintbrush-Up-the-Ass."

"You don't know how to treat a woman properly, do you?" Bebe flipped her hair, and then walked to the other's side, keeping at even pace with him.

"Tell that to Ester Stoley," He winked.

"...you didn't..." Bebe stared at him.

"Where the fuck else do ya think I was? The library? Pfft," He stretched his arms, "I've got a reputation to uphold and a couple urges I gotta please."

"Man whore..." She muttered.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I ruining your cheerleader reputation feeding you gossip? Oh, my great queen, forgive me. Shall I bow down and kiss your red pumps?"

"They're _carmine."_

"Do ya think I give a fuck about your girly colour names?"

"Why the fuck do I even talk to you?"

"Cause everybody loves me! And you hang out with us a bunch since you've got a lady boner for Kyle's ass and all."

"I do _not_!"

"Suuuuuure, ya don't. It's cool if ya do; he's got a pretty sweet ass."

"You're so gay for him," Bebe remarked, half-jokingly and half-seriously.

"Gay for him...? _Phahahaha!_ _Yeah right!"_Kenny always loved hearing the weird rumours floating around about how they were all gay for each other. The weird shit people cooked up killed him every time, "That's like saying you and Wendy are lesbian for each other."

"People get bored and cook up rumours," Bebe even spread a couple for her own amusement.

"So? They ain't true. And Ky and me ain't faggin' out."

"I know...But seriously, ya hit on him _all the time_."

"Sweetie, I hit on _everybody_ twenty-four-seven."

"You don't hit on EVERYONE."

"Yeah-huh!"

"Why don't you hit on Cartman then?"

"Well he's an ass and nobody wants to hit on him. Plus he'd sock me if I tried."

"_Right_...and Stan?"

"He'd make a pretty shitty fag to be honest...Oh, and Wendy would be awful pissed if I fucked her wonderful star boyfriend. Plus I'd tell her that you suggested it which would fuck you over too."

"And I'd tell her that you were lying since she believes me over anyone else."

"Fuck you."

"Manners."

"Fuck 'em."

"Well...anyway why don't you like...hit on...Craig?"

"Craig's a douchebag. He's one of the last people I'd want my dick inside."

"Butters?"

"He's a little goodie-two-shoes faggot who pisses me off beyond belief. I don't even think he knows what sex _is_."

"And what about all the other boys you don't openly hit on?"

"First off, I do not HIT on people; that makes me sound whorish. THEY come to ME because I'm fucking sexy and everyone wants me."

"Oh _totally_..."

"Second, I don't wanna get my ass kicked. This may be the twenty-first century but that doesn't mean I can go around making moves on guys when a good load of 'em are straight and wanna stay that way."

"So...you just throw yourself at Kyle whenever you get the chance to make up for that or is it because he gives you boners?"

"The first one, bitch."

"Ya sure there aren't any hidden feelings?"

"Nope."

"Wet dreams you aren't telling me?"

"Nu-uh."

"Any late nights masturbating to his picture moaning his name?"

"...Where the fuck are you getting all this shit?"

"Woman's intuition," Bebe tapped her temple with a giggle, "Come on, you're a big ball of homoerotic subtext."

"Homoerotic sub... _Jesus Christ!_ I expected to hear shit like that about Stan and Kyle but _me_ and Kyle?"

"Well Wendy'd kill me if I went on about Stan and Ky, but it works for you and Kyle too. All four of ya, actually. All just homoerotic subtext."

"...Are you high on nail polish, woman?"

"No and don't call me woman, it's demeaning."

"If ya can go on about how ya think I've got a boner for my bros then I can call ya whatever the fuck I want."

"You're a dick."

"You're a cunt."

"Remind me why I talk to you again?"

"Well obviously ya get hot picturing me naked with other men; that's why."

"Forget I said anything..."

"Say..." Kenny looked over at Bebe, just remembering the odd activities of the day, "Ya haven't been feeling funny today, have ya?"

"Me...?" Bebe thought a second, then shook her head, "Not that I know of... I mean I think I had a weird dream, but I forgot it when I woke up. Those happen to me a lot so I kinda ignored it and that's the only funny thing that's happened today. Everything else has been normal. Why?"

"I dunno..." He sighed, "The guys have been acting kinda strange and it's kinda making me think Ky was right when he said somethin' was up..." He trailed off, forgetting where he was walking.

_BUMP!_

"Watch it!" Cartman barked.

_Aw shit..._ Of all people he had to run into, it just _had_ to be Cartman.

"Sorry you're a roadblock, lardass," Kenny rolled his eyes.

"Aye, don't fuck with me, Keenny," His eyes narrowed into slits, "I'll make you eat your parents."

"Jesus, fatass," Bebe scoffed, "He's your friend and he just fucking bumped you."

"Stay out of this, bitch!" He snapped.

"And if I don't?" Bebe was among the few girls who had the guts to challenge Cartman alone; most of the others needed back-up.

He forgot about Kenny, shifting his attention to Bebe. He stomped over to her, glaring straight into her eyes.

She glared back, mimicking his expression. She held her ground, undaunted by Eric's glower.  
Kenny, meanwhile, started slinking down the hall, waving to Bebe and then scramming.

Bebe and Cartman continued their stare-off, waiting for the other to back down. The red rage in Cartman's eyes and the blue bitterness were evenly matched.

"You wanna try me, cunt?" Eric snarled.

"I can take you down easily. Just because you're heavier than me doesn't mean SHIT when I can whip your ass with one herkie." She hissed

"Pfff, like I'm afraid of your fucking girl moves. You'll be too busy freaking out over a broken nail or some shit to bother. Only I'd break more than just your nail."

"Someone's PMSing today, now isn't he?"

"Why don't you go and get pregnant or something."

"Go eat a fucking pie for all I care!"

"Jesus, sometimes I wonder whether or not Poor Boy really is stupider than you."

"I am NOT stupid, dibshit!"

"Then why are we arguing? Huh? Betcha can't remember."

"We're arguing because you're an ASS."

"See! You're so dumb you can't even remember the point of the argument!"

"Like you can either!"

"Dumb blonde!"

"Why you little—"

_"Stevens! Cartman!"_

They were so caught up in unpleasantry that they failed to notice the open door to the European History classroom next to them. Their teacher stood in the doorway, tapping her foot and giving the duo her 'Get your asses in here this instant' look.

Bebe and Eric looked turned and looked at her, wearing the same faces as two arguing children who wanted to point fingers at the opposed to prove to the adult that they were right. They supposedly outgrew that phase in middle school.

The teacher bent her finger, silently telling the two to get in class and take their seats.  
They looked at one another, and then scoffed, faces wrinkling in disgust. Grudgingly, they walked into class, trying to squeeze through the door at the same time, muttering insults as they pushed and elbowed one another until they popped in.

Neither of them picked up a single clue as to what was really happening to them.

* * *

"Cla_ssss_," Mr. Blowfisse, the Marine Biology teacher, said, spraying the front desk table as he tried to get the class in order, "_Sss_ettle down!"

Butters and Stan sat at one of the second row tables, safe from the splash zone. Stan had his face pressed on the cold black countertop, on the thin trapeze line of passing out and staying awake. He wasn't sure how long his brain could function without another quick nap. And he just had one! Butters, on the other hand, sat with his hands on the desk, folding his hands repeatedly while kicking his feet. His eyes flickered to Stan every so often, concern growing rapidly the more he looked at the tired ebon.

Even someone as oblivious to the atmosphere as him could see something that off.

Wendy sat on the other side of the room next to Red, her eyes glued to Stan. Red's friendly chatter went in one ear and out the other, Wendy too preoccupied with her staring to take part in idle conversation. The gleam in her eyes teetered between protective and possessive, leaning more towards the later. A cloud of worry surrounded her, only making her even jitterier. Not only was something clearly wrong with Stan, but, in the back of her mind, she felt something wrong with _her_. And when something was wrong with her, she went to Stan. All that really happened was a painful worrisome cycle that was spinning at hyper-speed.

Chills crawled down Butters spine every time he glanced at Stan, catching the rebounds of Wendy's look, burned by her frosty fire and burning ice. He knew Wendy as a sweet, nice girl with a bit of a temper; but today she _scared_ him.

"Now, _sss_tudent_sss_," Mr. Blowfisse said, waving a handful of tedious worksheets at his students, "It'_sss_ time for u_sss_ to do our partner activity. I'll pa_ssss_ you all out _sss_ome work_sss_heet_sss_ and you and your lab partner will work for the whole period and turn it in before cla_ssss_ end_sss_. Under_sss_tand?"

The class grumbled, all of them ready as they were going to be. Annie and Kevin up front both had to wipe their faces, hating getting wet with _spit_ in Marine Biology. Mr. Blowfisse tossed a few papers in the middle of their table and then walked down the aisle, making his rounds to everyone and littering the countertops with worksheets about algae.

"Alright, Stan," Butters said, whipping out his Hello Kitty pencil (which always made at least one person in the room snicker) and grabbing one of the sheets, "Are ya ready to get started?"

"No." Stan groaned.

"O-oh..." Butters frowned, staring at the fill-in-the-blanks a long moment. He furrowed his brows as he pondered, finding the decision of whether to do the worksheet or talk about Stan's issues as difficult as Rebecca Black's decision of which seat she'd take.

_I gotta do something... Oh poor Stan...But what if I got grounded for not working in class...? Oh, you know, maybe this is more important...Heck, it IS more important! Stan's my friend and all! And this is really getting weird..._

"S-Stan..." Butters spoke softer, knowing that talking about more personal matters implied keeping the volume lower in case of eavesdroppers, "Can ya...talk about the bad dreams now?" His eyes flickered to Wendy, just to be safe, relief washing over him when he saw that Red had distracted her with the essay questions.

Stan turned his head, gazing up at Butters with half-lidded eyes. Confiding in Butters wasn't something he did on a regular basis—usually because he always had Kyle and Kenny to back him up first—but he couldn't think of another option. As a big guy with a sensitive side, Butters' persistence and babyish approach methods would tear him up before the period ended. And, with all the pain and confusion already running through his head, he preferred just getting it over with.

"Well..." The ebon sat up, rubbing his neck and trying to stimulate brain cells to keep from a system shutdown, "I unno what to say..."

"Ya said they were pretty bad," Butters muttered, fiddling with the pencil between his fingers, "I-I mean ya don't gotta be specific..."

"Well I don't know if there's much to go into...it's all pretty blurry," Stan fibbed, trying not to react to the vibrant flashbacks crossing his mind, "But there was a lot of...snakes...and darkness..."

"Snakes?" Butters piped, "Oh jeez, that musta been pretty creepy. Snakes in the dark...Heck, I'd be pretty spooked!"

"Yeah..." _This isn't fucking helping at all... _"Maybe it was just 'cause I was in the Nurse's."

"Hmmm...Well maybe..." Butters bit the eraser of his pencil, "But I think ya should say a couple more things. I wanna help ya."

He stared at the blond. Help? What was talking going to do? The only thing achieved so far was that he wasn't feeling well. _I'd really rather talk to Ky about this... and I can do that at lunch if I can get him to calm down... But I doubt Butters'd stop now..._

"There's no way I can get out of this, is there?"The ebon asked.

"W-well I can stop if ya don't wanna talk about it..." Butters mumbled, his eyes matching the look of a sad puppy out in the icy rain.

Stan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. No, he couldn't get around it. An upset Butters only led to loads of unwanted guilty and bits of pity.

"I do... I'm just more used to talking about this with Kyle...ya know?"

"Kyle? Well, ya, I figure that. You and him are best friends and all. So I guess it's stupid that you'd be tellin' me your problems."

"He and Ken are pissed at me, remember? It's cool, bro, really."

"Why are they sore at ya, anyway? The three of you don't usually get in fights. I mean, yous three are best buds for a reason!"

"I know we are but...we're all kinda having an off day... Ky especially..."

"Why'd ya say that?"

"Well, he's just acting weird. I mean, I've been asleep most of the time, but after hanging with the guy for as long as I have...ya know..."

"Ya pick up things, yeah?"

"Yeah... Like he was reading some fucking Holocaust book this morning and he was bitching at Cartman before...Like worse than usual..."

"How much worse? They get pretty bad normally..."

"Sounded like they were gonna start sockin' each other... I mean this is kinda funny...and he's acting really preoccupied and shit...And he kept yelling at me and saying that _I _was the only one with the problem..."

"Huh...that doesn't sound much like Kyle..."

"Exactly what I thought. I mean, I feel kinda bad that I didn't talk to him before but I was with Wendy and she's a bit out of it than him so...yeah..." Stan's stomach churned, the guilt of choosing Wendy over Kyle again—and this time when he had something of prime importance to say—eating at him. Best friend versus Girlfriend battles always ended badly.

"I noticed that..." He gulped, catching the raven-haired girl stealing a glimpse of her beloved boyfriend, "She's a bit...uh..."

"Dude, don't start talking shit about her. I mean, I know Ken doesn't like her that much and Kyle's like a rival...and then Cartman and her just hate each other...but I love her."

"I know ya do, but she's still a bit...out of it today too..."

"That was another thing...it's kinda a funny coincidence that so many of us are off today, huh?"

"What? Do ya think there's like...somethin' in the water? Or somethin' else fishy?"

"I dunno, Butters...it's just..._weird_..."

The word echoed in his mind. Weird things happened in South Park all the time. Hell the town was basically _founded_ on weirdness. And this that was going on...was it _weird_? Weird seemed too normal to fit. The shit going on today was _strange...peculiar...CREEPY even..._ but not just weird. It had to be deeper than that. There had to be more to it.

"Hey, Stan," Wendy stood next to him, twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she carefully watched him.

Stan turned and smiled weakly. Even if Wendy was looking less 'with it' than usual, Stan still felt happy to see her. Dorky as it was, he really did care about her.

"H-Hi Wendy!" Butters waved, trying to keep up his cheeriness despite Wendy's unwelcoming aura.

She ignored him, waiting for Stan to speak.

"What is it, babe?" Stan asked, rubbing an eye.

"W-well Red and I were just wondering what you got for number four on the second worksheet...and you're the marine biology guy so I thought that you might have the answer."

"Number four..." Stan glanced at the worksheets, all the words and lines turning fuzzy and blurring together, "Uh..."

"Stan, honey..." She leaned over him, "Are you sure you're okay? You look like you're struggling."

"I'm fi—"

"I know, I should help you."

"Wendy I'm—"

"No buts, Stan, you need help."

"B-but what about Red!" Butters interjected.

Wendy glanced at Butters, narrowing her eyes at him to try and ward him off.

"I mean...she still needs a partner if ya worked with Stan...

"You can work with her, Butters," She waved a hand dismissively, "Just leave Stan and I to do the sheets and it'll be fine."

"But I'm his partner!"

"_Butters..._" She shot a glare at him. The tone of her voice startled the blond, sounding grim as a funeral toll. The brown in her eyes diluted, green shining like seawater waiting for a tide to sweep up fledgling and careless sailors and take them to the darkest depths of the ocean. Not only was it un-Wendy-like, but it was also _un-human-like. _

"N-n-n-never mind..." Butters nearly pissed himself just from that look; he didn't need to provoke anything worse, "I-I'll just go...sit by Red today..." He nodded his head, collecting his things and scampering over to Wendy's usual seat.

Wendy smiled, the green fading. As though nothing happened, she strolled over and took over Butters' stool, seeming genuinely at ease for the first time all day.

Stan's sleepiness didn't make him immune to the bizarreness hanging in the air. Whatever happened in that moment _wasn't_ his darling little 'babe'. At least not entirely.

"W-Wendy..." He tilted his head, "Are you...You're all cool and everything...right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well you just seemed a little..."

"A little..._what?"_ Her eyes narrowed, one brow rising suspiciously.

"...P-pushy?"

"Oh god, Stan, I just wanted some help on a worksheet! And I offered Butters nicely!"

_That's a pretty loose way to use 'nicely'..._

"I don't..."

"Look, I just want to spend some time with you, okay? I don't wanna fight and I wanna get done with this stupid fucking worksheet so will you just help me?"

"...Do you wanna talk about something?"

She hesitated, hiding her lower lip.

"...Later...kay?"

"Later..." Stan nodded.

How much later was his question.

* * *

Kyle tapped his pen against his desk, paying no mind to anyone else in the Psychology room. Everyone else was taking advantage of Ms. Turnbull's routine tardiness and roaming the room, their chatter serving as a background soundtrack. He watched the cap of the pen tap to a systematic rhythm as a thought storm raged on in his skull.

_Stan just fucking left with her... Goddammit doesn't he realise that I have something important to say...? I mean it's like he—_

_**He takes me for granted, that's what he does. Fuck he wouldn't be where he is now if it wasn't for me. And Wendy? She plays with him like a puppet. The fact that he favours her over me is absolutely—**_

_"K-K-KYLE!_" Kenny cheered as he burst through the door, proving that the party didn't start until he walked in.

Kyle looked up, a wave of relief washing over him as the blond hopped over the desks in his way before taking a seat on the one next to Kyle's.

"Hey, Ken," He smiled.

"Dude, you won't believe who I just fucked!" Kenny grinned.

"...Nice way to start a conversation..." Kyle deadpanned.

"Oh? You wanted a normal conversation? '_Hello, Kyle. How are you? I am good. GUESS WHO I JUST DID_.'" He leaned in, invading Kyle's bubble again.

The redhead sighed, "Okay...who?"

"Ester Stoley," Kenny boasted, puffing out his chest. Even though screwing a mousy nerd chick wasn't exactly the biggest prize, that didn't stop him from boasting about it. A sex feat was a sex feat.

"Kevin's twin sister? _Really?_"

"Yup!"

"Just...never mind..." He shook his head, "I kind of have something a bit more important I want to talk to you about..."

"Important?" Kenny's cockiness faded, knowing when Kyle said something was important it usually was, "Like...what is it?"

"Well..."

"This has to do with what was eatin' ya earlier, doesn't it?" His tone lowered, going from upbeat to utterly serious. The blond stared into the other's eyes, reading Kyle like a book.

Kyle remained silent, face void of expression.

_Am I really that obvious?_

_**He just pays a lot of attention to me, that's all. Come on, who wouldn't?**_

_I...what...?_

It was all in his eyes, his eyes said it all. The green darkened, a ring of violet rippling from his pupils. Then, the alien colour faded away, blending into the brightening green, as though nothing happened. Eye colour didn't work like candles flickering in the wind; Kenny knew that for a fact.

_Fuck...something's REALLY funny..._

"Kyle..." He reached out to grasp the redhead's chin, "Let me see your eyes..."

_**Don't let him!**_

"No!" Kyle swatted the hand away. His arm acted on reflex, the boy not noticing what he was doing until he heard the loud slap.

"Ow!" Kenny frowned, pulling his hand back, "Okay, okay, no need to hit a guy..." _Shit's goin' bad... Real bad..._

"S-sorry..." Kyle muttered, staring at his own hand. One minute things were fine, and the next...Slap! In the blink of an eye he missed it. In the blink of an eye, he lost control. Even though it was just a little slap, it left a bad feeling cooking inside him.

_But what isn't wrong today...? _

_**I can't believe more much I've been **_**overreacting...**_**Clearly I'm just imagining things...**_

Kyle's view of the line between real and imaginary blurred. Or he at least _thought_ it did.

_Goddammit..._

"HELLO STUDENTS!" Ms. Turnbull announced, swinging the door open to make a dramatic 'fashionably late' entrance, "Everybody take your seats!"

Everyone groaned, hoping she'd forget about her class (which wouldn't be the first time) and give them the chance to socialise all period. As the teacher crossed the room to her desk, all the children found their seats and sat down in their chairs.

Kenny stole one more look at Kyle, a bit worried about him, and then took the seat behind him. He might as well have his seat assigned across the room; it was just as good as the seat behind him. Kyle wouldn't turn around in fear of getting caught; Kenny knew that. So, he sat tortured behind him, unable to talk to him, but constantly tortured by the false opportunity.

_Crap...this is the only fucking class we have totally alone together... I can't talk to him about whatever's on his mind with the other guys around... And this is fucking pissing me off since Kyle's really off... Fuck..._

"Now class," Ms. Turnbull said, drawing everyone's attention to her, "We're going to be watching a movie today."

"IS IT INCEPTION?" Dogpoo shouted from the back row. His comment sparked waves of cheers in hopes something marginally exciting would happen in class.

"No," Ms. Turnbull paused, waiting for the chorus of moans to cease, "It's a video about lack of insight about mental illnesses and all that goes on."

"Do we have to take notes?" A boy with a blue cap asked.

"It's optional," She said, pulling an old tape out from one of her massive desk drawers and shoving it in the player, "But you should still pay attention, this will be on your test. Now someone hit the lights!"

The girl in the corner seat by the switch flicked it off, the room going dark as the television hanging went static. After a few minutes of a polar bear in a snowstorm, the video started, playing cheesy music and the title 'I Am Not Sick, I Don't Need Help' flashing on the screen. Most people immediately zoned out.

Kyle got out his notebook, turning to start notes on schizophrenia. _Just watch the video and everything will be just..._

_FWUP!_

A folded paper football landed right on his desk. Scrawled on the side of it in messy handwriting was 'Open this, dibshit' in pencil. It was clear who the sender was.

Kyle glanced behind him, looking at Kenny.

The blond sat in his chair, trying to stick the eraser of his pencil up his nose for entertainment. When he noticed Kyle looking, he just smiled, nodding his head as a gesture for Kyle to obey the directions on the paper.

Kyle rolled his eyes, then dissected the football, flattening the paper on his desk.

'Ky. Tell me what the fuck's up. NOW. Or I'll throw more pieces of paper at ya until ya do.'

_**I should ignore him...**_

_N-no...I DID say I'd talk to him..._

_**Whatever...**_

The redhead scribbled down his reply, refolded the football as best as he could, and tossed it back over his shoulder.

_There we go..._ Kenny thought smugly when the paper plopped on his desk. He unfolded it, happy to see a neatly written reply in blue pen.

'Nothing's up. At least I don't think so. Passing notes, seriously Ken?'

He took the pencil from his nostril and wrote out another message.

'Course I'm serious. This is all really serious. Cause you're all serious. Serious Kyle is serious. Ain't ya, KyKy?'

He flicked it over Kyle's shoulder so it would once again land on his desk.

Kyle reopened the paper, scanning the reply before writing his.

'...KyKy?'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'I can't call ya that? I think it's cute.'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'Stop giving me pet-names, homo.'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'You're too good for me anyway. Actually, Miss Bebe and I were just discussing our homoerotic subtext earlier. She thinks we'd make a great couple.'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'...Okay?'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'Anyway, why so serious, KyKy?'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'Stop calling me that. Are you going to throw movie quotes at me in an effort to get me to talk?'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'Well if movies don't work I can always use songs. Could ya GIMME GIMME MORE info?'

_FWUP! CRINKLE! _

'If you swear not to quote anymore Britney Spears songs, maybe'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'If I do would you hold it against me?'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'Fine, we won't talk about it.'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'I was just fucking with ya! I promise, no more screwing around, just talk to me.'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'Your lowercase As look like lowercase Ps.'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'KYLE I KNOW I HAVE SHIT HANDWRITING JUST ANSWER MY GODDAMN QUESTION BEFORE I DO SOMETHING STUPID AND DRAG YOU INTO IT.'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'But... I don't know where to start.'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'Start anywhere.'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'That doesn't help, dumbass.'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'We're in psych class, ain't we? Pretend I'm a the rapist.'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'That's not funny.'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'Sorry, that's how I remember how to fucking spell it. Anyway, how do ya feel? Like, how've ya been feeling? Since I can tell it ain't right.'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'Well...all today I've just felt...really weird, okay?'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'Oh really, I didn't notice. I'm not that much of an oblivious retard to know you're feelin' funny. Just tell me what's goin' on in that cute lil' redhead o' yours.'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'It's...kinda hard to explain... I mean, it shouldn't be...'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'O?'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'Yeah. Like...'

Kyle zoned out, making more and more dots as the man in the video went over the basics of schizophrenia, one of the symptoms including 'hearing voices'.

_Shit..._

_**But I'm not hearing any voices but my own so I'm totally normal and will now tell Kenny that...**_

'...Never mind'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'BULLSHIT'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'What do you want from me?'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'Real answers, man. This is even more un-you-ish. Come on, I'm one of your best friends, could ya tell me what's fucking with ya?'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'But there's nothing wrong with me! I swear!'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'...LOL AND I FUCKED MR. GARRISON. I'm right behind you don't think I won't spit down your neck if you don't start penning shit down.'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'You wouldn't...'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'And I'll stick my pencil in your mouth so you taste buggers.'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'How old are you?'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

'Older than you and way less mature. Thus, I ain't fuckin' with ya. NO FUCKING SPILL.'

_FWUP! CRINKLE!_

Kyle glared at the words on the paper, about ready to crumple the sheet up and shove it down Kenny's throat. Nothing was getting accomplished, and neither side was pleased.

_I said I'd tell him... I shouldn't be this worried about it anyway... I mean... he's right about being one of my best friends..._

_**This whole thing is still a huge overreaction that I'm probably focusing on far too much...**_

_But...oh well..._

He ripped out a clean sheet of notebook paper from his notebook, put his ballpoint to the paper, and started writing. He was going to need a lot of room to get his thoughts across correctly.

Minutes ticked by, the video droning on as the pen moved wildly across the paper, lines of college-rule filling with words. Kenny played the bendy pencil game, waiting in boredom for Kyle to wrap it up.

_Christ is he writing a fucking novel or someth—_

_FWUP! _

_Never mind..._

_CRINKLE!_

'Okay, so all day I keep feeling like I've been hearing voices or something. Like...maybe I just sound really fucking crazy but it's true. It's not even totally like I'm hearing voices I've just been feeling...DIFFERENT. And my thoughts are a little different too, I guess. I mean, maybe it's just my voice of reason acting up because I'm just overreacting again but I'm sort of going crazy since...all my thoughts contradict themselves. I mean, I noticed it, and I guess it's normal but...this is...so odd. Ken, I've never really had something like this happen. It's like one minute I'll be thinking one thing and the next it's the complete opposite. I keep spacing out too and feeling things that are like...like...Like I know I shouldn't feel them but I do. Like I shouldn't feel happy or anything but I am and then I get nervous because I'm happy and I feel fine but I'm not fine and...and... And I sound totally crazy now. But I seriously don't know what's going on. I mean I may have just slept funny but even then the whole day has been weird. Look at Stan! He's so...tired. And out of it. And Wendy too, she's just acting so bitchy... I mean I couldn't even talk to Stan and I need to figure things out and...and...and...'

All of that was in strikethrough, a dark line skewering the words. Kenny read through the line—it was just one stupid line anyway—and then noticed another sentence a few lines down, the only one not obscured by blue stroke.

'Disregard all of that, I'm just overreacting.'

"_Overreacting_?" Kenny said, raising his voice. The other students looked over at him, though he paid no mind.

Kyle bit his lip, sinking in his chair. _I should've just written on a new piece of paper or scribbled it out better..._

"Kenny," Ms. Turnbull glanced up from her paperwork, "I hope you're talking about psychology..."

"Oh, I am, Ms. T," Kenny sneered.

"Well even if you are, shut up and watch the movie." She huffed, returning back to another chapter of _New Moon_.

"Yes, ma'am..." Kenny nodded, gaze shifting back over to Kyle.

The redhead peeked behind him, biting his lip. The glint to his eyes screamed confusion and near fear. Kyle may have had something wrong with him—Kenny knew there was something TERRIBLY wrong with him—but a part of him didn't want to admit it. He wanted help, but something else in him didn't. That something else wanted to go on without giving a damn about the problem.

Kenny had a hunch that the part assuring Kyle that he was okay _was_ the problem.

"Please don't be mad at me..." Kyle mouthed, giving the blond an apologetic look.

"Mad?" He mouthed back. _Jesus Christ...he's REAL scrambled right now... I'm the one who pisses him off, anyways..._

"I'm sorry..." His lips barely moved, but the blond still read the two damned words. His gaze lowered in shame.

"It's cool..." Kenny whispered, leaning over so only Kyle could hear him, "Ya just need to calm down some...kay?"

Kyle nodded.

"Good...now just be a good lil' student and I'll prove to ya at lunch that ya ain't got nothing to worry about. Hell, maybe you are just overacting!" The word even tasted like the bullshit it was.

Again, Kyle nodded, turning back to the movie.

_**See? Kenny was just freaking out before! I'm completely fine...**_

_...Completely fine...yeah..._

Kenny watched the redhead resume his note-taking, divided on what to do.

_This isn't an overreaction...but I don't think I can tell him that...he may just deny it over and over...but if I...play along...will I make the problem worse...?_

His eyes flickered around the room. A few students still looked over, observing the duo, finding them more interesting than the movie. They looked away as soon as Kenny noticed their watching.

He sighed, sliding down in his chair. He fiddled with his pencil, attempting another shot at the bending pencil trick. Even when the wood seemed to go to elastic, his eyes gazed past the dull yellow and remained locked on the lime hat and red curls.

_He needs help... I really think he does... But I don't know what's wrong with 'im... And that's what's _killing_ me..._

* * *

**A/N: I worked really hard to finish this chapter, ya know? I got really determined and I had a really good night and wanted it done before I had more work in the way. Of course then I started slowing down and then the ending kinda just pooped out. TTATT**

**Urgh, some stuff kind of happened (I know there was a lot of humour stuff in there that was sort of a side thing). Look what characters finally decided to show up, huh? We'll dive more into everyone around lunchtime since everyone's a bit closed off from each other. Everyone's just worrying and worrying. Such a big ball of worry! And homoerotic subtext according to Bebe!**

**You'll see more of everyone next time around. I don't know when it'll come, I kinda feel really wiped and the chapter took a slight toll on me after a while. I don't know, I need to stop feeling so wonky u.u**

**Thanks for reading! Leave a review! I know it wasn't quite as long as last chapter, but I tried! Just keep taking note of things and more will be revealed in the next instalment. Will Stan talk about his dream? What's up with Wendy? Will Kyle go insane? Will Kenny be able to help? Will Cartman do more than just come in grumbling and then leaving? Guess we'll need to see. **

**Also, I KNOW I have lurkers for this story (or I've at least had a good deal of traffic), and I want to wave my fist at you guys. Seriously, talk to me! Tell me what you like (or dislike)! If ya don't want to do it here...well go bother my Tumblr. Hell, if you want we can write together on PiratePad, or at least chat there. **

**_Regardless I want y'all to speak up. _Otherwise I may..._threaten chapters_ :O (lol I don't even know anymore, I've been up way too late, but I may just do that one of these days). **

**Oh god, wordy author's note x.x Just, thanks for reading! Leave a review if ya please (please)! Hope ya enjoyed and I hope ya stay tuned! ~CQO**


	6. Just Overreacting

"In all my years teaching high school, I have never had to deal with something like this," The snotty Euro teacher paced back and forth in front of the two penalised students in red, "I hope both of you have justification for _why you used the materials for the group project as means of throwing wads of paste at each other."_

Cartman and Bebe glared pointedly away from one another, arms crossed tightly. White globs of Elmer's glue decorated their heads, clumping together the brown and sticking all the blonde curls to one another. Splotches of sticky drying glue dotted their jackets, a few scraps of paper and bits of dust caught in the mess and drying onto their clothes. Mature or not, neither regretted the all out paste war. Cartman called Bebe a stupid bitch just a few too many times and Bebe mocked Cartman's weight just a little too scornfully and...Glue. Glue _everywhere_.

A few of the other students glanced over at the duo standing on trail at the front of the room. No one was happy about cleaning up after Commander Cartman of the Red Army and Brigadier Bebe of the Cheer Squadron, but if they didn't they'd never get to lunch on time. Their stares went unnoticed by the teacher and the delinquents.

"By god, I can't believe you two!" The teacher went on, "You're seniors in high school and you both act like elementary students! What do you even have to say for yourselves?"

"He started it!" Bebe shouted, pointing her finger at the boy next to her, "Couldn't ya hear 'im? He was _asking_ for it!"

"Pu-lease, Bebe, this is obviously all _your _fault!" Eric retorted, "Honestly, this is all _your_ fault for being an _insensitive_ _**whore**__ who can't keep goddamn mouth shut_!"

"EXCUSE ME BASTARD?" Bebe snapped her head, baring her teeth like a rabid poodle on the end of her rope, "_TRY TO FUCKING SAY THAT TO MY FACE!"_

"FINE BITCH, WANNA GO?" Eric snarled, turning around to give her the look of an enraged bear. The glimmer in his eyes shined a deep crimson, accenting his dark mood with the perfect threatening touch.

Bebe was undaunted by the look, barely noticing the change. After all the years of bitter hatred, they got along on terms just a tad friendlier than Cartman and Kyle and far less personal. So what if he looked more pissed? Didn't matter jack shit.

"You _PRICK_—!" Bebe roared.

"_BOTH OF YOU STOP THIS INSTANT_!" The teacher shouted.

"HMPF," Both turned away from each other, barely restraining the anger bubbling inside.

_Soon..._ The brunet thought, _Soon she'll get it..._

"Honestly, I don't know what to do with either of you..." The teacher sighed, "I very well could give you detention, but I almost think a _time-out_ is better suited."

"Time-out! Aw gaaaaaaaay!" Eric whined, "I haven't gotten one of those since I was like eleven."

"Why? Ya got too fat for the corner?" Bebe snickered.

_BUMPF!_

"_Eric!"_ The teacher frowned, the high school classroom turning back into a kindergarten one.

"OW!" Bebe stumbled to the side, hand rubbing her hips, glaring at the battering ram of Cartman's elbow, "That fucking hurt!"

"Oops," He shrugged, putting on an innocent face, "It was an accident, teacher."

The teacher opened her mouth, about ready to give Eric a scolding to end all admonishments.

_BRING! BRING!_

"Oh, look at the time!" Cartman smiled like a troll, slowly inching towards the door, "_Lunch time!_ That means I'm no longer under your authoriteh and I can go get food! Oh it was really a lovely day in class, but I'll have to wait until tomorrow to let you finish. Good-bye!" Without any time for rebuttal, he bolted out into the hall, riding the current towards the cafeteria and out of the jurisdiction of a mere history teacher.

"Eric!" The teacher ground her teeth together, taking a step forward before realising that chasing after him would be in vain.

Bebe on the other hand could chase him to her heart's content.

"Come back here, Fatass!" Bebe sprinted right after him, chasing after him like Tom chasing Jerry. She was out the door before her teacher could stop her, standing in the dust as both her prime troublemakers escaped punishment together in less than a minute flat.

Out in the halls, the pursuit went on, Cartman rolling down the halls in search for her friends (or 'losers he hung out with' as he often phrased it in his mind) while Bebe shifted through the crowd, revenge on her mind. No one pushed Bebe Stevens and got away with it. And especially not Eric Cartman.

"CARTMAN!" Bebe shrieked, cutting through friend groups and climbing over couples holding hands on their way to the lunchroom, "I'm not fucking through with you yet!"

"Fuck off, ya stupid whore!" Eric shouted back at her, rolling his eyes. His anger today, he noticed, worked like the tides. After waking up and spending hours in high tide, the water of rage finally pulled back behind the sandbar, making his rage level relatively normal—perhaps calmer than normal. Thus, the urge to break Bebe's fingers and toes one by one and then reattach them to the wrong places dwindled to mere annoyance of her presence. Of course, that didn't mean his temper couldn't flash again and bring in a tsunami.

"Not until you apologise!" The blonde hissed, shoving a few band geeks aside to give her a clear path ahead. She locked on her sluggish target, preparing for the running pounce, manicured claws at the ready. No fat turd was going to brush off the alpha female of the school like that, not when Bebe was head bitch in charge.

"Bebe?" Clyde Donavon appeared out of the crowd, stepping right in the middle of the blonde's walkway. Plans of attack foiled by oblivious boyfriend!

"Huh?" Her predatory mode clicked off, Bebe's eyes fluttering as she looked at the brunet, "Oh, hey, honey..."

"Whatcha doing?" He stepped forward, Bebe catching a glimpse of Cartman fading into the swarm over Clyde's shoulder.

"I was... Oh never mind," She shook her head. _I guess outright trying to kill him would look bad on my image anyway..._ "I was headed to lunch."

"Cool, me too," Clyde smiled, acting as though it was just a coincidence that the entire grade had the same lunch break, "I can walk ya." He held a hand out to her.

"Yeah..." Bebe shyly placed her smooth hand on his palm, fingers curving and latching onto him, "Let's just...go..."

Her eyes flickered around. A nervous wave came over her, one that bombed her with slightly shallow questions like 'Holy shit how's my hair?' and 'How many people are looking at us?' to no end. As one of the more popular girls of the school, these questions showed up fairly often; but at the back of her mind rather than in a distressed bombing.

"Bebe?" Clyde craned his head, rubbing a thumb tenderly over her knuckles.

"Yeah?" She piped, catching only a few sets of eyes on them. For some reason, the lack of limelight poked at her. _Why aren't they all looking at us...? We're one of the cutesy couples in school... Shouldn't everyone be looking?_

"Are you...okay...?" Clyde looked into her eyes, trying to read her face. Sadly, he has the reading level of a fourth grader.

"I'm fine, sweetie," Bebe spoke a few octaves louder, gaining some extra attention and additional comfort, "Let's just go to lunch, kay?"

The linebacker nodded, gripping his girlfriend's hand tightly and tugging her behind him as they walked to the lunchroom. Bebe kept glancing around, counting the pairs of eyes that watched them pass.

One, two... Eleven, twelve... Eighteen, nineteen... Only twenty-two?

_Eh... People are weird today... Kenny said shit was pretty funky today..._ Bebe let out a small sigh, _Maybe all his crazy talk and Cartman's assholiness is just getting to me a little... Whatever..._

She still couldn't believe that only twenty-two people were watching.

* * *

"Settle down everyone!" Ms. Turnbull shouted, attempting to silence a chorus of zippers. The bell rang and, for all the kids cared, they were free to go to lunch. "I have to tell you one last thing!"  
That one last thing didn't stop the herd from stampeding out, hunger taking over and leading them to the cafeteria.

"Just... Don't forget the test on Wednesday..." The teacher muttered, letting out a dramatic sigh and waddling over to her desk.

Kenny got up from his seat, silently walking around to the front of Kyle's desk.

The redhead ignored him, closing his notebook and slipping it into his backpack, pretending the blond wasn't even there. There was enough going on in his mind without social interaction.

_**I am overreacting! Come on, does it really take Kenny to prove that to me? I really should calm down already!**_

_Calm down... Right... Calm...do—_

_BAM!_

Kenny slammed his hands on Kyle's desk to get his attention. Kyle jumped in his seat, head snapping up. A few shudders travelled up and down his spine, the noise ripping him from his mystic land of thoughts.

A smirk grew on the blond's face when he gazed into the emerald he knew so well, expression softening. Not a trace of purple was visible, only green, giving him some form of comfort.

_I gotta at least act like I ain't worried..._

"Ready for some grub?" He asked, sounding like he forget the entire note-passing incident, "I'm fucking starved!"

"UH... Yeah..." Kyle nodded slowly.

"So... Let's go!" Kenny cheered, already taking a few steps towards the exit. _Thank Christ I'm a good actor..._

"We have to stop by the nurse first," Kyle reminded him, slipping out of his seat and heading for the door "Insulin."

"Ah, yeah," Kenny nodded, "Good thing the Nurse ain't too far from here."

"Yeah..."He muttered, thoughts wandering as he and Kenny wandered towards the Nurse's.

_This could just have something to do with my blood sugar..._

_**It very well could! **_

_And if it is then... _

_**I really am overreacting off my ass! **_

_I mean..._

_**Nothing is abnormal about today other than my actions! Everything's so **_**perfect**_** and **_**wonderful**_**!**_

_But... _

_**I'm fucking it up being a sceptic cynic! **_

_The hell..._

_**I could give Stan a run for his money with all the shitty ass thoughts I've been thinking! **_

_I...I...I..._

"_KYLE!"_

He snapped back to reality, Kenny leaning against the Nurse's door to hold it open. His eyes were fixed on the Semite, a questioning glimmer to the blue as he analysed the daydreaming boy.

_What the fuck is going on in that lil' smart head of yours...?_

"Oh, thanks, Ken," Kyle said in a voice just above a whisper. He scooted inside to, looking around for Nurse Gollum.

"There you are!" The pink-haired woman frowned, crossing her arms as she stood up from her desk, "Where have you been Kyle?"

"Class...?" He answered, glancing over to see if Kenny had left or not. The blond leaned against the medical cabinets, wearing the same face of the mysterious stalkers in suspense movies.

"Well you should've come earlier," Gollum rolled her eyes, "It's best to have the insulin in half an hour before you eat and you usually come just before your Psychology class."

"He forgot," Kenny said, "Just give 'im the stuff, he's been acting funny and thinks it's sugar-related."

"You too?" The nurse raised a brow, "For how long?"

Kyle opened his mouth to answer, only to be cut off by Kenny.

"All fucking day," He said, eyes flickering to Kyle for a moment before looking back at the pink-haired woman, "He didn't come earlier since he thought he'd get over it or somethin' like that."

"Kenny!" The redhead groaned, looking frantically between his friend and the nurse.

"Well if it's something health related you should know to come straight here," She lectured, "Especially since you pushed Stan in here just a while ago. If anything you and him should've gone in together and had me check the both of you out at the same time."

"I'm sorry..." Kyle sighed. The years living with Shelia Broflovski, the Queen of Scolding and Archduchess of Nagging, made him indifferent to short spiels about the littler things in life, "Won't happen again."

"I'd better hope not for your sake," She headed towards the other end of the room, motioning Kyle to follow, "The insulin's over here, you can do it yourself."

The Jew nodded and followed, glancing at Kenny out of the corner of his eye once more before sitting down on the far side of the room, preparing for another injection.

"Uh, Nurse G," Kenny stopped her, Kyle scurrying to the back to work on his injection.

"Yes?" She turned around, "Are you 'sick' again?"

"Me? Nah, I was just curious about Stanny," When he mentioned the ebon's name, the nurse bit her lip, the gleam to her eyes dimming.

"Well...his vitals were okay...He's just in need of more sleep," Even a moron could tell she was hiding something. And Kenny wasn't just an average moron when he felt like applying himself.

"And did he get it?" Kenny asked.

"Yes..." She hesitated, "But he had a horrible nightmare that even startled me, just from the way he was acting."

"Nightmare, eh?"

"Kenny, just because I'm a school nurse doesn't mean I'm going to tell you every little thing, best friend or not," She placed her hands on her hips, "If you want to know more, ask Stan yourself."

"I will I will..." _You bet your ass I will..._

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have to helping Kyle," The woman huffed, headed to the back of the room to help the diabetic boy.

The blond pushed Stan to the back of his mind, deciding to look more into that when he could. The important one of the moment was Kyle. He kept a close eye on the Jew, staring down the boy, expression matching that of a genius trying to crack an insolvable equation. Kyle was like a jigsaw puzzle with thousands of pieces, every little detail connecting to every little thing he did. Kenny knew that, and he knew that somewhere in that puzzle there was one piece that just didn't fit right. Someone jammed it in and hammered it there, ruining the picture. Kenny just had to find it.

_And I gotta find it 'fore my brain gets too tired 'n shits itself or somethin'... Fuck, for a kid who has the easiest feelin's to read Ky's got his lil' problems under lock 'n key in that big ol' brain of his... Dammit it'd help if I wasn't so fucking stupid in the first place... He really IS too smart for me..._

"Well, the numbers check out," Nurse Gollum said, Kenny just tuning back into reality, "You can go now."

"Goodbye," Kyle slipped out of his seat, and then started for the door, lips pressed in a fine line. He zipped right passed Kenny, beating him to the hall and showing no sign of slowing down.

"Hey!" Kenny shouted, scrambling after him.

Kyle didn't hear him. He didn't even want to hear him. He just wanted out. Out of the room, out of the school, out of the confusion.

All he wanted was for someone to tell him he was okay and for him to _believe it._

"Wait up!" Kenny whined, chasing after him out into the hall. He looked around until he spied an ushanka in the crowd, then dove in, shoving people out of his way just to get to the troubled Jew. Not a fuck was given for those Kenny pushed into a locker; there were more important things for him to think about than common courtesy.

Kyle kept walking, wishing he could walk off his problems, but only being tormented by the conflicting thoughts again.

_**I'm acting far too jumpy! What's my problem? This has to be the worst overreaction ever...One for the record books! **_

_But what Stan and Wendy seem..._

_**Sickeningly happy together off in their own bubble of trashy teenage love... **_

_I guess..._

_**If Stan had any sense he'd listen to me! **_

_He really should pay more attention..._

_**Doesn't he know by now that everything I say is IMPORTANT?**_

"Come 'ere ya son of a bitch!" Kenny lunged forward, grabbing Kyle around the torso. Of course, he only half thought out his master plan to catch Kyle, leaving out the part when he used too much force and toppled the poor boy over.

_THUMP!_

Luckily, the other students saw the incoming hazard and jumped out of the way, letting Kyle fall right to the floor.

"Ow..." The redhead moaned. He landed face first; nose smushed against the cold tiles and head left like scrambled eggs.

Kenny used Kyle to break his fall, head resting his friend's spine. Most of his body weight pressed down on Kyle's lower half. At least Kenny was _light_; otherwise Kyle would've really gotten hurt.

A symphony of snickers rippled through the hall, everyone's eyes on the latest klutz-tastrophe.

"Christ, why don't you fags get a room." Craig Tucker snorted; his nasally voice noise pollution to the duo's ears.

The blond lifted his head, groaning. The last person he wanted to deal with was Craig motherfucking Tucker and his dickweed attitude.

Craig stood right in front of them, a milk-curdling smirk on his face. A few stray strands of black peaked out from under the brim of his navy chullo hat, the ebony shining. His grey eyes stared down at them, the colour just as bland as the soul inside. His gang had yet to assemble, Craig outmatched two against one. That didn't mean Craig wouldn't use his douchebag powers and holy middle finger on the two.

_"Craig..."_ He narrowed his eyes. Disgust dripped off the name, all of the blond's bothers manifesting into a monotone teenage troublemaker. All the scraps of his upbeat carefree mood crumbled away, a very pissed off Kenny McCormick remaining.

"Hello Mr. and Mrs. McCormick," Craig sneered, "Did you two have a lovely trip?"

Kenny growled, rising to his feet. _He wants trouble? I'll give the fucker HELL..._

"Oh, it was just about as lovely as the time I banged your momma," Kenny smiled sourly, "And where's Mrs. Tweak Tucker and your extended family of deformities at?"

Craig's slight smile turned into a slight frown, the smallest flash of anger flaring in his eyes.

"Tweak's with Token buying lunch and Clyde's catering to his girlfriend."

"D'aww, so Craigy's all alone without a single friend 'cept his stupid hat."

"My hat is NOT stupid!" He snapped, glancing around at the forming audience, "At least I'm not a stupid hick with lame comebacks!"

"Craig, have ya checked where ya live? Everyone here's a fucking hick. 'Sides, I don't need good comebacks to get good sex."

"You only get laid so much because you're easier than Charlie Sheen!"

"EEEEH!" Kenny imitated a buzzer, "I believe I get laid because I'm a sexy beast and don't have the face of a pigfuck like you!"

"Do you even know how much of a slut you are?" Craig scoffed, rolling his eyes, "You're lucky you even have friends! Like you've got much..." His eyes wandered down to the redhead still sprawled on the ground, "A douchebag jock, a prissy nerd, and an all around asshole aren't exactly quality friends."

"Craig, I don't like repeatin' myself and I gotta say that your attitude is really pissin' me off..." Kenny's tone lowered, "I ain't a whore, slut, or whatever the fuck else ya wanna call me and if there one thing that really gets me pissed it's when assholes like you start dissing my friends. So shut the fuck up before I do somethin' stupid!"

"Oh, I'm so scared," Craig yawned, "Grow up, assfuck."

_"Don't call him that!"_

Kyle shot up from the floor, his shout coming from virtually nowhere. Kenny had his mouth open, about to spew another insult at Craig, but shocked by the Semite's sudden addition to the battle of wits and insults.

Craig raised a brow, not all that intimidated by Kyle. Kyle was never known for his threatening appearance, and Craig was indifferent to everything from the start. If anything Craig was _annoyed_ that the redhead had the guts to try and join in. and take away his opportunity to single-handedly humiliate Kenny in front of everybody.

Kyle glared at Craig, hands clenched into tight fists. The violet rings reappeared, rippling in the green pools, pupils burning with defensive anger. Just like when he was arguing with Cartman in the English room, an odd feeling flowed through him, like some latent unnatural hormone that just kicked in.

"Oh no, I've angered the little coin counter," Craig said blandly, barely noticing any change to Kyle's demeanour, "I'm doomed now."

"Shut up!" Kyle barked, "You have no right to demean either of us!" _**Especially ME!**_

"Calm down, Broflovski," Craig rolled his eyes again. His old reflex kicked in when the boy lifted a fist and let his middle finger stand tall, "I'm _sorry_."

"Cut the _bullshit,_" Kyle scorned, "Just give us an apology and _fuck off_!"

"Shit, man..." Kenny muttered under his breath. That might have been Kyle's voice, but that _wasn't_ _Kyle_ talking.

"Apology?" Craig looked around at the gathering crowd, giving them a 'Can you believe this kid?' look, "How about _fuck off_, huh?"

Kyle's eye twitched, looking like he was about ready to bite off Craig's head. His hands shook, barely restraining himself from knocking the ebon in the teeth. Violence was never the answer; but with a temper from the armpit of the nation, he could do a bit of damage on a target like Craig.

Then, he breathed out, every muscle relaxing. His shoulders sagged, fists unclenching, all the tension leaving him. He shut his eyes thinking a moment. Slowly, his lips twisted into a smirk, eyes opening, the green overpowered by purple. Calm as he appeared, the dark threatening glaze to his eyes said that things were far from over. And he was going to _win_.

"Oh, of _course_ Craig," Kyle said, "I'll gladly just bow down...Right, Kenny?"

"Uh..." Kenny bit his lip, unsure of how to respond.

"Yeah!" Craig nodded, shiftily looking at Kyle, "Both of you losers can just fuck off."

"Exactly," Kyle nodded confidently, acting like everything was under control, "We'll just go on our ways and have lunch and go on with our little meaningless lives. Why, in the end who knows what'll happen. Maybe I'll get into law school or something while Craig winds up as the school janitor because of his F in Chemistry."

Craig choked on his tongue. Not even Tweak knew about that F.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve?" Kyle asked, tilting his head, "I mean, it's just one bad grade right? It isn't like you've been failing every science course since eighth grade or anything. And it's not like you have Ds in most of your English and history classes on top of that."

"Sh-Shut up, Broflovski!" Craig snapped, wishing the crowd would just go away already.

"Ky..." Kenny whispered, looking around the room. For once, he could read the atmosphere without a problem. People were being nosy people and staring, Craig was cracking, and Kyle was..._not Kyle._

"I'm sorry Craig, I didn't know you were keeping such a big secret," The redhead shrugged, "After all, it's not like you..._still watch Red Racer every day after school _or anything like that."

A few giggles came from the crowd, a small murmur rippling through the human ocean, spreading the news.

"_Kyle you better shut your fucking mouth before I—"_

"Oh, and Clyde killed your guinea pig last December," Kyle smiled innocently.

"_WHAT_?"Craig forgot about the argument, thinking back to that cold December night when he came back from his family trip only to find Clyde with a head hanging low, an empty cage, and a story about how he woke up one morning to a 'missing' Stripes the Fifth. He could be an asshole to everyone at school but he cared for his guinea pigs _a lot._

"What? You actually bought that sob story Clyde cooked up?" Kyle rolled his eyes, "It's not that easy for a guinea pig to unlatch his cage, slide down the stairs, and then skateboard away."

"_Stripes was a smart guinea pig, okay?" _Craig shouted, trying to defend the ridiculous.

More of the crowd started laughing, their yearning for someone's embarrassment appeased. They came to see Kenny and Kyle get it to them good but having a show that turned the tables on Craig was just as fulfilling.

Kyle smiled smugly, watching humiliation wash over Craig, tasting sweet satisfaction on his tongue (the perfect appetizer for a cruddy school lunch). Rather than being the nerdy klutz getting at least one put-down opportunity a day, Kyle was the one raining some chump with shame. And lord knew it felt _good_.

Kenny glanced back and forth between Kyle and Craig, the ebon turning more frantic as the redhead swelled with pride. As much as he loved seeing Craig finally get poured with humiliation by one of his most common victims, Kenny knew none of it was right. _Kyle wasn't right_.

Kyle basked in his little hallway glory, all his former worries and doubts evaporating into thin air. He really was just overreacting! There was no way a feat like that could've happened on a bad day! What was he thinking before?

_**I really am fine...BETTER than fine...**_

For all he cared, those were _his_ thoughts.

Craig looked around. No, this wasn't how things worked! He wasn't going to get embarrassed by Kyle after years of building a reputation! No! No! _No!_

"You're gonna get it, Broflovski..." Craig snarled, hands balling into tight fists. With his temper tamed, Kyle was an easy target. And one that bruised like a peach.

"GET OUT THE FUCK OF HERE CRAIG!"

Cutting through the crowd was, of all people, Eric Cartman. No matter how much he hated 'Jewrat' and 'Poor Boy', they were still his friends. Craig, on the other hand, was a dickhead asshole who always got them in trouble; and that meant he had to back off before a world of hurt came his way.

"Cartman?" Kenny glanced over, thinking that Stan would be the one to come to the rescue.

"These two are my properteh, Craig," Cartman snarled, "The only one allowed to beat on 'em is _me._ Now fuck off, asshole."

Craig's eyes flickered at the three boys, knowing his chances of getting out of this the victor were slim. Kenny and Kyle he could take; Cartman was another story. And all three together equalled a bad disaster on his part.

"_Soon..."_ Craig added threateningly, backing into the crowd, "And when I _do_ strike back, your little bodyguards won't be around to save ya..." He flipped off the three boys and then scurried off, blending into the crowd and getting away. With the main source of conflict out of the picture, everyone suddenly realised they had better things to do and left, resuming their usual activities of the hour.

"Weasel..." Kyle rolled his eyes, turning around to see the others. The violet faded, hiding in an unnoticeable ring around his pupil, "And what are _you_ doing here?"

"Saving your sorry asses, obviously," Cartman replied, "Maybe if you two fags weren't such fucking idiots I wouldn't have to make it clear I have claim on snapping both your necks."

"Oh Cartman, you goddamn saint," Kenny said with a roll of his eyes, "Always looking out for us."

"Can it, White Trash," Cartman glared at him, "Saving you and Ginger Scum isn't an act of charity. Now tell me why the fuck you fuckshits even needed me to make sure Craig didn't kick your asses?"

"Well I tripped and fell on Ky..." The blond spoke slowly as his eyes drifted to the Semite, analysing Kyle for some tip that something was up, but seeing nothing notably wrong, "And..."

"And Craig was being a dick and tried to make fun of us," Kyle continued, "So after Kenny warmed him up with a little argument, I made him regret picking a fight."

"Yeah, ya sure made him regret it," The brunet snorted, "What were ya gonna do for an encore, suck his dick?"

Kyle's eyes narrowed, and a low growl came from his throat. Anger burned in his eyes, making Cartman smile. Nothing was more rewarding than feeding off Kyle's displeasure.

"Oh stop being an ass, Cartman," Kenny said to the brunet, and then focused back on Kyle, "And calm down Ky. You're already overreacting to everything enough as is."

"Overreacting?" Kyle blinked. His flame of anger burnt out, turning into a hazy wisp of smoke. Now what was going on...? Oh, right, _before_ he _thought _he was. _**But I know I'm okay, why look what I just did! The day couldn't be BETTER! **_He shook his head, "I think we established that I was just in over my head."

"We did?" Kenny cocked his head, missing that detail. All he established was that Kyle was acting _freaky_, not _okay_.

He chuckled. _**Of course he overlooks it...**_

"Yeah, Ken, don't worry," His worries and doubts dissolved with the smoke in his mind, the false net of security giving him bogus answers to all those frantic questions. An assuring smile curved on his lips.

"Uh..." Kenny didn't want to believe that Kyle was okay—hell, _could_ he believe that he was okay? But the smile on the boy's face was so genuine...could he be faking it if it was really as bad as he thought? _Fuck maybe I'M just overreacting...but he...he...how can...shit...how...FUCK..._

"Keenny!" Cartman slapped the blond on the back of the head, "Stop ogling Jewrat so we can go get some fucking food!"

"I was not ogling him!" Kenny frowned, "My eyes weren't even near 'is ass this time!"

"Kenny," Kyle brought his palm to his forehead, "Can you turn your horny switch off _ever_?"

"Nope," He shrugged, "In the words of the goddess Britney Spears, I'm _lookin' so fire hot a twenty outta ten!" _

"Oh god, not this bullshit again," Cartman grumbled.

"Can it, ya lil' monster!" Kenny snapped. He had enough on his plate without another battle of the pop vocalists with the resident troll.

"Oh god, don't even..." Kyle muttered.

"Screw you fags, I'm getting food." Eric pushed passed the duo, waddling back on his path to the cafeteria.

"Well fuck you!" Kenny flipped him off with both hands as he walked away.

"Kenny, we have to get going too," Kyle said, starting after Cartman, "I'm hungry and you should be too."

"Well I'm hungry for a couple of things right now," He murmured, his sexual appetite just as starved as his stomach. _One lil' nerd just ain't enough..._

"Just come on!" Kyle shouted, "I'm not waiting up!"

"But if I walk behind ya I can watch your s—"

"Make one more comment about my ass and I'm not buying you lunch today."

"Coming, Ky!" He galloped after the other two, running past Kyle in a minute flat, "_Hey fatass wait up!_"

"Kenny!" Kyle groaned, speeding up when he saw the orange and red boys walking together at an even pace, "Wait for me!"

He chased after them, leaving all his worries behind.

_**Just an overreaction...**_

* * *

Stan was stone-faced when he left the Marine Biology room, Wendy on one side and Butters on the other. Both wanted to talk to him, but both didn't want the third's company. And Stan, quite frankly, was too tired to make a decision to talk to anyone about anything more complex than basic things.

Wendy kept glaring at Butters, his presence making her uneasy. Since she woke up everything just seemed...intimidating. All the people just had something about them that rubbed her the wrong way. Some girl had those shoes she wanted. Some boy got a higher grade than her. And then there were some people who wanted to spend time with the one person she was entitled to hang out with for as long as she wished. All of it was getting to her, eating at her when she knew it shouldn't, and there were very few people she trusted enough to talk about personal issues like that with.

_Maybe if I just talk to Stan everything will be better...but that means that Butters has to go the fuck away already..._ She shot him another dirty look. Sweet as he was, today he felt like a threat.

Butters shivered every time a glare came his way, growing more uncomfortable by the moment. Aside from wanting to actually help Stan out, he wouldn't mind some company. When it came to friends, Butters was pretty far from popular. He hung out with the other boys, but served more as the butt to every joke and the scapegoat for every botched scheme. When it came down to it, most of the people he called 'friends' hated him, or were at very least annoyed at him a large percent of the time. Stan was one of the people who tolerated him more, and, at the moment, he needed someone to talk to. Butters wanted to be that person. But in order to do that, Wendy had to leave.

Stan paid attention to neither his girlfriend nor his somewhat-of-a-friend. The concern for Wendy and the desire to talk to Butters faded as time ticked on, his brain slowing with each passing second. The world didn't seem to matter; it was all the same shitty thing anyway. Reality wasn't even much of a problem, it was more his subconscious. Whatever was going on inside his tired mind was making things even shittier than any bout of cynicism.

The silence pained all three of them though, the whole trio feeling awkward as the hallways buzzed whilst they remained quiet. No one had a topic, and no one wanted to talk with the other around. Stan wasn't picking sides and that left an open ultimatum between Butters and Wendy, one better leave before the other gets defensive. Wendy was ready for a fight but Butters...well he never wanted trouble.

But he still didn't want to leave Stan when he needed consoling. Wendy was his girlfriend but after her actions earlier, he wasn't so sure about her being a good person to talk to in terms of problems. That meant he'd have to stall.

"So-so..." His stomach bubbled like stew as he spoke, "How were your weekends?"

"Fine," Wendy said curtly, sounding extremely agitated, "Butters, nothing ever happens."

Stan grunted.

"I-I was just tryin' to make conversation..." The blond mumbled, swallowing hard as he lowered his head, wearing an imaginary dunce cap, "Ya don't gotta get sore at me..."

"No one's mad at ya, Butters..." Stan said, voice fading in and out as he fought the drowsiness, "Don't feel bad."

Butters whimpered, too discomforted by the raven-haired girl to go on with any more small talk. _Jee I only made things worse...oh hamburgers..._

Stan sighed, his head rolling to look at Wendy, torn between asking what was wrong and to apologise to Butters. Her frantic appearance made him hesitate.

"Uh..." He thought a moment, regretting the sound that came from his mouth when the girl looked up.

"Yeah, Stan?" She batted her eyes, staring up at him.

The loving, worried shine to the hazel only made him question his decision to speak out more. _She's out of it today I know that...but I don't wanna like...upset her...shit that was stupid...fuck fuck FUCK..._

"I...well...uh..."

She blinked, waiting for a coherent sentence to come out patiently.

"Erm...eh...um..."

"_Wendy!"_

Wendy, as well as Stan and Butters, looked over, seeing Bebe zooming down the other hallway to meet her BFF at the intersection. Trailing behind her was Clyde, muttering to himself that Bebe had to stop being so social on taco day.

"Bebe," Wendy said before the blonde pounced on her, wrapping her arms around the other's shoulders. She twirled Wendy around, ripping her hand from Stan's, hogging all Wendy's attention.

"Wendy, my god you're a _mess!_" She said in a babyish voice, "My poor _bubuy_!"

"H-hey!" Wendy squirmed, peddling back to keep her balance and flailing her arms.

"Uhi Bebe!" Butters beamed, waving idiotically.

Bebe glanced over at the other two, smiling at the boys.

"Hey boys," She purred, "You wouldn't mind if I stole my best friend in the whole wide world, _would you_?"

"Bebe your boobs are hurting me!" The problem with tight hugs from Bebe was her set of 32DDs.

"Oops," Her hold loosened, some of the tension between chests relaxing.

"Bebe," Clyde called, walking over to the others, "Can we hurry up, it's taco day!"

"Honestly, Clyde, you and your damn tacos," Bebe rolled her eyes, Wendy struggling in her arms to break free.

"They're my favourite food okay!" Clyde frowned, then looked at the other boys, "Stan, you look like shit."

"I feel like shit to," Stan responded dryly.

"Gonna be okay for practice tomorrow, though, right?" Clyde asked.

"I hope so," Stan shrugged, "I think I'm just having an off day or something..."

"Well feel better," Clyde nodded.

"He should!" Butters popped in. Clyde and Stan both looked at him blankly. Butters bit his lip, guilty of conversational murder.

"Aha!" Wendy slipped out of her best friend's death hug. As she leaned for Stan, Bebe grabbed her by the wrist.

"Not so fast, hun," She said, "You're comin' with me."

"Why?" Wendy shook her arm. It wasn't very effective.

"Because, darling," Bebe laughed, "I have to talk to you about important shit!" She started walking, trying to get Wendy the human anchor to budge, "_Allons-y_!"

"But!" Wendy looked over at Stan.

"Go on, I'll catch up with ya later," Stan said, "Don't worry."

A grimace crossed the ebon girl's face as the blonde, with a final resolute tug, uprooted Wendy's feet and dragged her down the hall, Clyde trotting at her side. Wendy kept her eyes on Stan for a few more moments, emotions of unease, worry, and _fright_ flashing before she turned her head, whipping her hair as she did so.

Stan pursed his lips, off-set by the final look from the girl. The emotions that he saw made his organs stew like a witch's brew. _Maybe this is a little more...serious than I...thought..._ He blew that shot.

Butters placed a hand on the ebon's back, patting him gently. Although his concern for Wendy rose, Stan was still the priority and his friend.

"She'll be okay," He said, "Bebe's pretty good about girl problems...so it's best she talks to her."

"I guess..." Stan sighed, shoulders sagging before he breathed, "But she wanted _me_..."

Butters let out a light sigh, "Well I think right now it's more important we look at your health, ya know? Ya still look real sleepy..."

"Well I don't know what the fuck is wrong with my health, since the Nurse didn't tell me jack shit," The ebon sneered.

"Okay, okay," Butters backed off, "But still...ya aren't actin' like yourself at all today and it's pretty bothersome..."

Stan moaned, pinching the bridge of his nose like he always did in states of aggravation, "I'm not that happy about being tired as fuck all the time either but I really just don't care anymore. I just want it to go away."

"Well if we talk about i—"

"_STANNY BOYO!"_

Stan's head snapped up, instantly recognising the voice.

His lips curved into a half-grin when he saw his three best friends coming down the hall, breaking the odd uncomfortable atmosphere with something that actually appeared normal. Cartman was making petty jabs at Kyle, snickering as he kept an even stumpy trot. Kyle had a look of disapproval on his face, rolling his eyes after every little comment coming from his nemesis but other than that not giving two shits about what he said. And then there was Kenny rounding them off, snickering as he watched the others bicker while acting as the mediating comic relief, complete with random perverted jokes to throw the arguments off course before they got too heated. From a distance, they represented just about all the normality of Stan's life coming back to bring him out of his eerie mental freak show.

Kenny waved. The smile on his face further led Stan to believe that normality had arrived like a knight in shining armour. Kyle soon tore away from his bickering to give Stan a quick wave, smiling just a tad. Eric also looked over, using the Heil Hitler wave to greet Stan. It didn't take too long for Kyle's elbow to ram into Cartman's side.

"Watch it ya fuckin' kike!" Cartman growled, "That hurt!"

"That hit your _blubber_," Kyle retorted, "If I did hurt you'd be on the ground in tears."

_"I would NOOOOT!"_

"Kenny, Kyle, Cartman," Stan acknowledged the three, "What's up...?"

"Hi guys!" Butters cheered. He could've been invisible for all they cared.

"I'll tell ya what ain't up; _my dick_," Kenny said, "Imma need to fix that."

"Keenny, don't talk about your fucking nub of a penis before I lose my appetite!" Cartman whined.

"I'm sorry, who had the smallest penis measurement in the grade?" He smirked.

Cartman's face grew red, prompting the blond to snicker.

"Cartman, shut up. Kenny, seriously stop talking about your dick," Kyle told them, and then focused on Stan. Even after all the hullabaloo in his head, he remembered Stan's neglect and favouritism. Showing up second best hurt, especially when the second best also had the title of super best friend.

Stan stared back at Kyle, one glimpse of that green drowning him in shame. _I was just tired... I mean... I'm retarded..._

"Feeling better?" Kyle asked. His tone sent Stan the message that he was still skating on thin ice.  
"More like shittier," Stan murmured, "And the shittier I feel the shittier my judgement gets."

"Is that an apology?" Kyle tilted his head, smile growing.

"Yeah..." He yawned, "Sorry I was a douche and let Wendy drag me around."

"Stanny, ya shouldn't apologise for that," Kenny said, "It ain't totally your fault that you're whipped."

"Kenny!" Stan and Kyle shouted.

"_WHOOWICHU!_" He imitated the sound of an Indiana Jones whip, "W-H-I-double P-_ED_."

"Asshole," Stan rolled his eyes.

"He isn't whipped!" Butters jumped in, "He just wants to be nice to Wendy and treat her like a lady!"

"Same dif," Kenny shrugged.

"Why the hell are we just standing around in the middle of the hallway?" Cartman scowled, "There is FOOD in the CAFETERIA."

"Not everything revolves around your gluttony, Cartman," Kyle scoffed, "I'm hungry too but we can spare a few mi—"

"Shut up, Jew," He barked. He resumed walking, eyes set on the double doors at the farthest end of the hallways leading to the lunchroom as he waddled.

Kyle growled, the prideful fire igniting once again. His eye twitched, grinding his teeth together as he muttered, "_Don't cut me off like that, donkey-raping shiteater..._" No one caught that.

"Uh, wait up, Eric!" Butters scampered after him. Of all the boys in the grade, Cartman was the one he clung to, often acting as Eric's stupid abused puppy.

Eric groaned. There was a reason Butters was his _abused_ puppy. _Why the fuck does that faggot have to like ME? Why can't he just go make Kyle miserable or something?_

"Come on GUYS!" Cartman shouted back, gesturing them to move their asses to save him from a walk with the cheerful chatterbox.

"Coming," Stan called, trudging after the two ahead. Cartman may have been the school's biggest asshole, but he was still a friend...to an extent. Plus Butters was the only help he had and he was skipping away with his best friend (or who he at least saw as his best friend).

"Yeah, I'm fuckin' starving!" Kenny shouted, "Come on, KyKy,"

"Will you stop calling me that?" Kyle whined, trailing in the back of the miniature parade to the lunchroom.

"But I've got nicknames for all of ya!" Kenny exclaimed, "You're Ky with the occasional extra Ky, Stan's Stanny, and Fatass over there is Fatass!"

"_Aye, I'm not fat I'm big-boned, Keenny_!"

"Just keep tellin' yaself that, Fatass," Kenny smirked.

Cartman snarled.

"What's my nickname, Kenny?" Butters asked, eyes wide with curiosity, a hopeful smile appearing on his face. Unpopularity didn't mean a thing to Butters, and he considered just about all the boys his friends. Even if he wasn't liked, there was a screen of naivety keeping him from truly acknowledging the clear dislike others had towards him.

"You would be Faggot, but I usually just go with Butters," He bluntly stated.

Butters' smile vanished, "_Oh_..."

Cartman pushed against the metal bar the double doors, opening the portal into the wonderful world known as South Park High's cafeteria. The scent of old mystery meat, cooked cardboard taco shells, half-rotten vegetables, and soggy off-yellow rice drifted in the air, the smell able to tempt only the stomachs of the desperately hungry teenagers. A loud buzz of everyone's combined conversations droned on as the five boys filed in; all the others' words mixed together, only snippets of specific conversations caught as they headed for the line. They weaved around and climbed over a few chairs obscuring their path, also watching their steps for any spilled lunches waiting for some klutz to slip on and slide across the room.

The line was short, only a few other kids standing against the wall near the door to the food service chamber. The exit door wasn't too far away, students leaving one at a time with a forest green tray of barely edible food.

"Goddammit, if they run out of food because of you fags," Cartman grumbled, crossing his arms as he settled in his spot in line. Butters stood next to him, bouncing up and down as he waited.

"Dude, don't worry," Stan said, rubbing his eye as he stood behind Butters, "We're fine."

"Plus this isn't nearly as bad as nacho day," Kenny pointed out, letting Kyle take the spot between him and Stan in line, "In that case we'd have no food."

"The food isn't that good anyway," Kyle muttered.

The line took a few steps forward.

"Well food's what gives us energy," Stan yawned, "So it's good to have somethin' even if it's shit."

"Speaking of energy, are you sure you're okay?"

"Course,"

"You're still tired."

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And?"

"_Stan_."

"What?"

"What about your nightmare?" Kenny asked.

The duo turned to look at him. Kyle had an air of confusion to him, wondering where the hell Kenny heard of nightmare talk. Stan wondered the same thing, though the fact that Kenny knew was what startled him.

Kenny looked between the two, rolling his eyes, "Oh Jesus Christ, I heard from the Nurse when Ky was getting his insulin, stop staring at me like I've got some voodoo mind-reader powers I ain't tellin' ya about. Who do I look like? Edward Cullen? 'Cause dazzling as I am I ain't."

Kyle groaned, rolling his eyes.

"My nightmare isn't that important," Stan stated. Even the drowsiness couldn't shield the lie.

"Bullshit," Kenny furrowed his brow.

"It's obviously important!" Kyle frowned, "What happened?"

"I just...I don't really wanna talk about it right now..." He checked for Butters, praying that he wouldn't pop in and give Kenny and Kyle more fodder for their argument, "It's really blurry anyway..." _Blurry as an HD TV anyway..._

"This ain't anything to joke around about, everyone's acting weird today!" Kenny protested.

"I thought you said that everything was an overreaction?" Kyle cocked his head, staring the blond down.

"Uh..." Caught red handed, "_Shit..."_

"So this whole time you were telling _me_ to calm down _you_ were worrying about this?" Kyle's dagger stare pierced right through Kenny's defences, leaving him with the meagre weapon of fast talking.

"Well, ya see, I was just not so sure since Stanny was sick and ya kinda freaked me out before and shit so I was like...uh..." The gleam in Kyle's eyes told him not even fast talking would save him. He let out a sigh of defeat, "Fuck you and your Broflovski Death Glare..."

"Jesus Christ, Kenny," Kyle shook his head, "And _I'm_ the one who's bad with overreactions. You're the one who has to calm down."

"I...am?" The looming, ominous feeling that he wasn't talking to normal Kyle anymore reappeared like an ever-elusive poltergeist.

"Yeah," The green darkened, "I was overreacting before and then I realised that I was just freaking myself out. Anyone who's really freaking out right now is in over his head."

"Uh..." Stan stared at the redhead, recognising the voice but not the words that came out. Kyle wouldn't say that, he was far too careful to say such things.

"Stan," He whipped around, "You're just in need of sleep. And I'm sure Wendy's just having typical feminine problems or something like that. It's Monday, everything sucks. Besides, weird shit happens in town all the time! So why worry?"

_The way you're acting is making us all a little worried Kyle... _Stan blinked slowly; keeping his reply in his head, where he believed it belonged.

"Yeah..." Kenny nodded. _Fuck, this is worse than I thought..._

"Hey assholes," Cartman shouted, "We're going in!"

The three looked over, seeing Butters and Cartman walk into the little room. They quickly followed suit, joining them in the crammed line running across the space. A plastic shield protected the slop from being filched by students starved enough to sneak extra portions. A skeleton woman with her wiry scarlet hair gathered in a string hairnet stood beyond the glass, mixing the taco meat as she awaited her next group to take their orders.

"What'll it be?" She rasped.

"I will have a double serving of everything, please," Eric said, pressing his face against the clear plastic, "Oh, but not the salad, that's sick."

"Done," The lunch lady took a lunch tray and prepared Cartman's meal, slapping scoops of rice, two sloppy tacos, and a sprinkle of leaves in their designated sections. She slammed the tray on top of the plastic wall, "Next."

"UH..." Butters twiddled his fingers, drooling at the site of the food. It wasn't gourmet and he wasn't known to eat a lot, but his appetite expanded with every inhale of the food's scent. _Oh jeez... I must be real hungry today..._

"NEXT," The woman repeated.

"Oh!" The blond jumped. A low, gargling grumble came from Butters' torso, entire digestive system vibrating. Since when did he get so hungry? _What if my parents ground me for this...? Oh they'll be real sore if I do this..._

Another intestinal earthquake shook his organs.

_Oh hamburgers... I guess I'm gonna have to..._

"UH... I think I'll just have a d-double of... Everything..."

The meal was fixed and placed where Cartman's was. With a hanging head, Butters took the tray and trudged down the line.

"Next."

"Just a normal one..." Stan mumbled.

"Speak up!" The lunch lady screeched, tapping her ladle against the metal counter.

"He said a normal meal," Kyle spoke up for him.

"And what do you want then, kid?" She sneered, getting Stan's food ready.

"Just the rice and salad, thank you," Kyle spat.

Once both platters were complete, the lunch lady slapped them on the barrier. Stan reached for Kyle's confusing the two at first. Kyle grabbed Stan's wrists, turning him in the direction of his plate before taking his own.

"And you?"

"Just a normal entree, if ya please."

The woman made him his food and pushed it onto the wall, Kenny catching it before it could slip off and splatter on the ground.

"Eric, can ya help me reach the milk in the back?" Butters asked, arm just too short to grasp the little blue and white carton.

"Butters, you already have a goddamn milk," Cartman scoffed, grabbing up a Coke.

"But I want another..." He trailed off, sadly gazing at the milk. For a box of spoiled dairy, he wanted it pretty badly.

"Too bad, I ain't helping you," Cartman snorted, proceeding to the cashier.

"Huh..." Butters sighed, stretched arm going limp, giving up.

"I got it," Stan said, reaching over Butters and grabbing two cartons, dropping one on Butters' tray and keeping the other as his own.

"Jee, thanks, Stan!" Butters popped back to life, going from sad to elated in three point five.  
Stan grunted, motioning Butters to move on in line. They both moved on, Stan's footing off kilter.

"Stan," Kyle said, picking out a water bottle before shuffling after him, "Careful."

"Kyle, what did ya just say about not getting ya panties in a bunch over lil' things?" Kenny grabbed himself a Sprite.

"That was about weird occurrences not almost tripping, genius."

"Well still calm down."

Cartman and Butters walked through the exit, scouting for a place to sit. Stan bumbled behind them, swooning with each step.

"Paying for McCormick too, I assume?" The cashier inquired, pounding digits in on the keyboard number pad.

"Yeah," Kyle nodded. Rather than have Kenny survive his lunch hours on bread sandwiches and tap water, Kyle offered to pay for his lunches back in middle school. After a few years of Kyle badgering Kenny to take the offer for the sake of his health, Kenny agreed. By senior year, the double payment was basic lunch routine.

"You're so sweet, ya know?" The cashier smiled, banging down on the enter key, "You boys have a nice day."

"Thank you..." Kyle said, leading Kenny out to the lunchroom. "You'd think that she'd stop calling me sweet after three and a half years."

"You'd think that after five and a half years I wouldn't have to depend on ya this much," Kenny said, staring at his meal. The best part about school was that he got in at least one square meal to get him by.

"I'm not letting you starve," Kyle rolled his eyes, "You haven't had money to buy your own school lunch since Chef still worked here..." He trailed off, hitting a bittersweet note.

"Yeah..." Kenny sighed, remembering when getting lunch used to be an opportunity for advice and guidance rather than getting bitched at.

"KEENNY! KAHL!" Cartman shouted. The boys looked over, seeing the other three at a table not too far away. The old square tables of elementary and middle school were replaced with circular tables scattered about, fitting less people for an even cliquey and diverse student body. That meant the famed four got their own table, with an added seat for Butters whenever he decided to sit with them.  
Kenny and Kyle went to the table and sat down, Kyle next to Stan and Kenny between Kyle and Cartman.

Stan was having a staring contest with his salad, staring at the pale tomatoes with half-lidded cloudy eyes. Cartman popped open his Coke and started drinking it down, beginning his lunchtime feast. Butters, meanwhile, shovelled food into his mouth as though he hadn't eaten for days, taco meat dripping down the corner of his mouth.

"UH, Butters..." Kyle pointed to the corner of his lip, trying to have the blond mimic him to clean up.

Butters paused, mirroring Kyle, feeling the greasy chunky trail, and then looking at his fingers, brownish red staining the pads.

"Oh..." He bit his lip, reaching for his paper napkin and dabbing the area clean.

"Jesus, and I'm the starving one here," Kenny took a bite out of his taco, chewing with his mouth open.

"He at least knows table manners," Kyle said, narrowing his eyes with every deafening crunch.

"I can't help that I'm so manly," Kenny said, and then swallowed down his food.

"That's gross, Poor Boy," Cartman wrinkled his nose, scooping up a spoonful of rice and vacuuming the plastic silverware clean.

"So's your face!"

_BANG!_

Stan's face smashed into his tray, nose in the salad and forehead in some leftover meat. He sat right back up, eyes opening as wide as they could, strings of carrot and clumps of meat falling from his face.

"Stan?"

"Oh jeez!"

"Damn Stanny..."

"The fuck, Marsh?"

Stan blinked, looking at each individual at the table. His eyes turned into a pair of kaleidoscopes. Kyle's figure warped, crystallising and colouring violet. Kenny's form wiggled, turning a deep royal blue. Cartman bloated, the red of his jacket spreading to his entire body. Butters distorted and grew orange, waving like a reflection in a rippling pond. Strange auras of black surrounded them, a few random twinkles peeking from the deathly clouds.

"What...?" He blinked, opening his eyes to find everything normal again. Everything but himself, that was.

_The fuck... Was that...?_

"Ya took a header to your food, that's what!" Kenny shouted.

"What was that?" Kyle grabbed his napkin and went for Stan's face, wiping off some of the food.

"I... I don't know..." He replied, staring out into space, "I just don't know..."

_And I'm kinda afraid to find out..._

* * *

**A/N: This chapter. I think I declared war one it several times. Anyway, my goal was to finish it up already since I want to get through with it. That sounds like I'm rushing but trust me, that's the last thing I'm doing. One of the reasons this took so long was because I was thinking a lot out. I warned long ago that this would be lengthy, didn't I? **

**Anyway, some shit has happened! Kyle got in a fight with Craig, oooh. Kenny's trying to be a detective, ooh. Stan's banging his head, ooooooh. The rest of the lunch hour as well as the rest of this hellish school day shall be covered in the next chapter. I promise that the next chapter will have a bit more excitement in it. I actually trimmed this one down for the sake of wanting to balance it a little more. Also, pay attention since there are a few very important details in here that'll come up later (like I said, this story needs a good chunk of build up so the snowball can really roll!)**

**Thanks for reading! Leave a review! As of a couple days ago, anon reviews ARE enabled. This means you lurkers without fanfic accounts can actually put in your two cents which would make me as happy as Kenny in a BDSM club (wat). **

**Okay, I'm tired, I just need to rest and then try and start up the next chapter when I can. I've got lots of work but I'm trying to write this whenever I get the chance. Life's just been a bitch which really drains the ever loving everything outta me; and these chapters are a bit draining too (but in the good way)!**

**Again, I thank you for spending your time reading yet another chapter of this story and I do encourage you to leave a review. Well, keep your crosses at your side and stay tuned for more sin! ~CQO**


	7. Early Development

Wendy stared down at her tray of food, biting her lip as she poked her salad with the plastic fork. Her eyes stayed on the pale green lettuce, isolated despite all the people around her.

Since she was best friends with the head cheerleader and girlfriend of the quarterback, she automatically had an 'in' with the more popular crowds. Although she could care less about her popularity status, she still sat with her 'crowd' or sorts, having lunch with Bebe and most of the other cheerleaders as well as their boyfriends, most of whom played some sport.

As enthralling as it was to listen to Bebe and Heidi discuss how Red and Jimmy were 'Facebook official' and watch Clyde and Bill compete to see who can scarf down his lunch first was, Wendy had other things on her mind. More important things.

_Jesus fucking Christ why am I so jumpy...?_ She thought, jabbing the paper-thin leaves, _I'm...I feel like I'm losing my mind or something...but everything is just so...UGH...I could just be having a mood swing but...Mood swings don't do this...they don't make these feelings..._

Since she woke up this morning everything seemed to have shifted and warped. What was it? She wasn't sure. But she was sure that it was getting to her—anyone could tell that—and she had no ability to control what was going on.

_Well this isn't some new period side effect...I had that last week...and since I had it last week I know this definitely isn't s PREGNANCY side effect...This is just...It could be hormones...but hormones don't make these feelings..._

Her plastic fork quivered as it scratched the shrivelled green veins of her food. Her hand shook slightly, but she didn't notice. Even if she did she wouldn't have cared.

What she did care about was figuring out her emotions. Women did have lots of them, but Wendy sensed one that she never felt to such an extent. Which one it was, though, she didn't quite know. And if there was one thing that really got to Wendy Testaburger, it was not knowing something.

She ran through the start of her day in her mind, zoning out, the lunchroom around her fading into a mere ignorable backdrop.

_When I woke up I felt it...or felt something...but it could've been something from a nightmare...I'm pretty sure I was tossing and turning last night...still...oh, anyway...I went to have some breakfast...Mom and Dad still didn't leave for work...Dad drove me to school...in his fucking Mercedes..._

The thought of the car threw her off, stuck on the sleek obsidian body, cushy beige seats, and aroma of tropical coconut. The Testaburgers weren't poor, but rich definitely wasn't the word for them. And her father decided that, rather than settle for a cheaper car to spend the rest on getting one for his daughter, a lease on a Mercedes would make him look more professional.

_Selfish bastard's fucking can get in a wreck for all I care... _

The out of place thought went without notice.

_Anyway...then I got to school...and I talked to Bebe a little...about the usual..._

Her eyes shifted from her unappealing lunch to her best friend.

Bebe, as one of the unofficial queens of the school, had just about everything a teenager in a small town could ask for. She had Clyde, her little boy toy, along with an entourage of admirers (though most liked her for her rack) often showering her with little gifts whenever they could get around her boyfriend. She had a large circle of friends—most of the girls in the class on her good side—and only a few enemies (or at least few that would ever try anything against her). As head cheerleader, she ruled over her kingdom with a likeable air of pep and overpowering aura of popularity.

Her favour amongst everyone was won over the years as she blossomed into a young woman. Even though she had a few more controlling and malicious intentions, she never made herself appear to be an outright bitch. Being popular wasn't about becoming a bitch—that just happened along the way to some more vain—but it was about making more friends and being likeable. Bebe understood that, using her more charming attributes to rise to the top, only using her skills of manipulation and deception in more desperate times. She tried to stay social, tried to blend what she liked with her personality, keep sight of a few morals, and try to avoid shallow actions.

She wasn't a saint, but she looked like an angel, as a few love letters said. Her 'development' started way back in fourth grade, her gifts growing beautifully as time went on. But, aside from her perfect breasts, she had the ideal body shape to match, curving in all the right places, naturally flat as a pancake, and blessed with flawless skin others would die for. Despite her large selection of cosmetics, caking herself with makeup wasn't a priority. A dash of blush, touch of eyeliner, and spot of lip gloss was enough to make her look fabulous for the day.

Out of all the girls in the school, though, Bebe called Wendy her true best friend, their bond lasting through all their rough times. They were like Glinda and Elphaba, a social starlight and amiable activist. But, even though Wendy felt content about her standings in the school hierarchy, the occasional jealous thoughts crept up on her, envying the artificial perfection her friend was born with.

_...I don't remember what she said, probably something about Clyde or Jersey Shore or something stupid...Sometimes I think she's going to start worshipping Paris Hilton all over again..._

Wendy shook her head, catching her thoughts straying off topic again.

_Then I called Stan since everyone started coming but he wasn't there...and he was still at the bus stop...apparently...with Kyle and Kenny... _

She turned to stare across the room, spying her boyfriend's lunch table amongst the scattered mess. Although she enjoyed spending time with Stan, Wendy wouldn't restrict him or hog him to herself. Sometimes she wanted to, but she knew that it was important he spend time with his friends and in turn she spend time with hers; it kept their relationship healthy. But that meant that, if she needed him, he was more likely to be unavailable.

This was one of those times.

Stan sat in his usual seat, Wendy getting a fairly good look of his profile as he chowed down on his taco. Even though they were some distance apart, she could see that his eyes were gazing into space, mind somewhere else far away. His jaw moved slowly, crunching his mouthful to smithereens, swallowing, taking another bite, and repeating.

Wendy calmed slightly watching him, only finding comfort when Stan was near her. Of everything thrown at her today, Stan was the only one who hadn't changed. And because of that, she longed for his protective arms to wrap around her and save her from the anxiety and worry that gnawed at her brain. Stan could do that; she knew he could do that. He was _hers_, after all.

Then, without warning, a certain redhead moved, Wendy's view of Stan blocked by a bright lime hat and deep red curls. Her entire body hardened, turning to stone as she watched said redhead start up a conversation with her beloved, remaining a roadblock to her once perfect view. Her hand froze, fork still, just a hair away from the mutilated salad. The comfort sucked itself out of her, replaced with a vicious, defensive feeling she just couldn't name. Whatever it was, it was _strong_.

_Fucking Kyle..._

Bitterness crisped her entire mind. Hatred wasn't something she felt towards Kyle—the only one she truly hated being Cartman—the two were in fact on fairly friendly terms. Kyle was her academic rival and contender for Stan's attention, but the two of them never made a big deal about it. Friendly competition in studies and the occasional squabble over who got Stan for the day was the farthest they'd ever gotten to war.

Yet today, Kyle seemed to turn into her number one enemy.

_He_ was with Stan.

_He_ took him to the nurse.

_He_ was the star student in Calculus.

_He_ was just _Kyle fucking Broflovski_; the _prodigy_ of South Park and proof that not everyone in town was completely _retarded_.

"Fuck you..." She muttered under her breath, thinking aloud.

Bebe's ears caught her friend's murmur, pausing her conversation with Heidi to focus on her best friend.

Wendy was practically her sister—the one person she could tell literally everything to—and she'd always spare her a minute. She may have looked like some dumb blonde but she _did_ have her priorities straight.

"Wendy...?" She lightly tapped her shoulder.

Wendy jumped, her lifeguard saving her from drowning in a pool of emotions. She banished all other thoughts to the back of her mind, simply staring at the blonde. Everything about Bebe seemed golden, from her brilliant hair to her sun-kissed skin to her eyes. Yes, even her eyes had a golden sparkle to them, however that was possible.

Wendy opened her mouth, tempted to comment on that, but decided against it. _It's probably just the lighting...or my imagination...or both..._

"What's wrong?" Bebe asked, taking the ebon's bewilderment as a sign of distress.  
"I don't know..." She admitted, letting out a sigh, "I just haven't...well I haven't really felt like myself today..."

"Huh...That's funny..." Her thoughts wandered to Kenny, recalling his questions on any funny feelings. _Coincidence...?_

She stared off into space, looking at the mess of wires and trying to find a connection between points A and B.

Wendy raised a brow at the blonde's puzzlement.

"Why is that funny...?"

"What?" Bebe snapped out of it, "Oh, it's just funny 'cause Kenny said something about feeling funny too today," She laughed, "I think he only said that because I told him to question his sexuality, though." She knew that wasn't why, but she wasn't admitting it; that would just feed the fire.

"Oh..." Wendy dropped her fork to rub her eyes, "I think... I think my hormones just decided to turn into a shit storm or something..."

"Hun, the way you can control mood swings so well is beyond me," Bebe scooped up a bitty collection of rice, popping the grains into her mouth.

"If I'm having one then I'm doing a shitty job stopping it..." Wendy muttered head lowering. She stared at her tray again, looking sadly at her half eaten taco, shredded salad, and scarcely touched mound of rice. Her stomach curled into a ball, appetite leaving on a surprise vacation. She pushed the tray to the centre of the table, shrinking in her seat.

"I'm not really hungry..." She whispered, looking off to the side.

Bebe pouted, but had no idea what she could do for the poor girl. Her only option was intense girl-to-girl talk, but that tactic would have to be saved for later. Right now, there was nothing more she could do.

"Hey boys," Bebe snapped her fingers, getting their attention, "Free for all!"

All the boys at the table dove in the middle, fighting for the leftovers. Bebe stole one last sad glance at Wendy, and then resumed her talk with Heidi. Wendy kept her head low, falling away from the table, her thoughts and feelings turning to mesh without any way to stop it.

From under her lashes, she peeked at Stan's table one more time. All she could see of the ebon was the red poof ball atop his hat, his face blocked by Kyle's hat. Another wave of mixed anger and annoyance washed over her, the girl forcing herself to look away.

_This is just a warning...Don't fuck with me Kyle... You should know better than to fuck with Wendy Testaburger...__**No one fucks with Wendy Testaburger**__..._

* * *

Colours.

That was all Stan could think about.

Bright, vivid colours.

The odd vision he had haunted him, barely overshadowing his hellish nightmare. Somehow, Stan knew they were connected. Somehow the colours and the snake pit had a relation.

He was just too damn tired to find a connection.

_Well... I hit my head... So it isn't that surprising I saw a rainbow... But that still didn't look like something that'd happen... I should know, Dammit, I've taken more hits than most of the team..._

He chewed harder on his food, pushing his brain to get in gear and work already.

_Okay... So the colours..._

He shut his eyes, imagining the precise moment of technicolor daze.

_Kyle was purple..._ The violet shined, an amethyst surreal sculpture of Kyle placed in his recreated lunchroom. _Purple is...fuck what the hell? He doesn't even like fucking purple... It could be symbolic but... Shit I haven't paid any attention in English all fucking year... Purple is just... The colour of bruises? Does that mean he's like... Gonna get hurt...? He bruises easy but..._

A sharp pain poked his brain, all the machinery in his head warning him of an impending overload.

_Ugh... Well when ya can't figure something out skip it and go to the next one..._He mentally panned over to Kenny, _He was... Like a really dark blue..._ The blond's distorted replica darkened to the same royal blue from before. _Blue... Well that's my favourite colour but I think this is more than favourites... His eyes are blue but not that blue... If anything that colour's closer to my eyes than his... And blue is... Water...? The sky...? CONDOM BOXES...? Jesus Christ this is harder than I thought..._

As soon as the mental pressure built up again, Stan thought about Cartman's crimson bloated form.

_Well Cartman likes red... He wears red... Sometimes his eyes look red... His blood is red... Okay all blood is red but still... He turns pretty red when he's pissed... UH..._

Having a myriad of choices proved to be just as difficult as having no choices.

_...Shit..._ His brain pounded, urging him to move on, _I can't figure any of this shit out... I mean next is Butters and..._The boy's figure dyed itself a deep tangerine, _I don't even know... Orange is... It isn't his colour at all in any way... Maybe if I knew two shits about fucking symbolism I may be able to..._

"STAN!" Kyle snapped his fingers in front of the boy's face, derailing his mucked up train of thought.

"Wha..." The ebon turned his head, staring down at the redhead. Thinking was starting to feel like dreaming, causing mental disarray and confusion every time he came back to the real world.  
Kyle frowned, displeases by Stan's bewildered look. The sharp gleam in his eyes told Stan that—whatever he was doing—he was doing something wrong.

"Are you even paying attention to a word I'm saying?" Kyle asked, an edge to his voice sharper than the corner of the coffee table.

"Well..." Stan bit his lip. His eyes wandered, knowing that Kyle would likely give him a mini lecture the way a mother would give a mischievous child.

"You weren't, were you?" Sometimes it was easy to tell that Kyle was _Shelia's_ son.

"No..." He admitted lowly, "But I..."

"You're too damn tired, that's what you are," Kyle cut him off; "If anything we should ask if you can go home just so you can sleep."

The very word made Stan shudder. Sleep at last would be a dream come true...but it'd only lead to more nightmares he didn't want to face.

"I'm not tired," Stan opened his eyes as wide as he could, "I'm just thinking too much."

"There seems to be a lotta that goin' around," Kenny butted in, pushing his tray out of the way and inviting himself into the conversation.

Stan and Kyle turned to look at the blond. Stan nodded his head as a gesture of thanks, Kenny saving his ass from Kyle's sharp tongue again. Kyle simply stared.

Kenny put on his signature silly smile, relieving some of the tension. He was the unofficial comic relief of the group, an unsaid title he took a little pride in.

"Hell even I was thinkin' too much!" He went on, turning his chair towards the other two, "But too much hard thinkin' in on sitting usually causes brain damage. 'Specially when ya can't think straight from the start."

"You do not get brain damage from thinking," Stan rolled his eyes, knowing that was directed at him.

"Oh but thoughts can work like cancer, my dear Stanny boy," Kenny lifted a hand for theatrical emphasis, "For thinking too much creates stress. Stress turns to tension and tension makes it harder to think. So your brain works more and gets even more stressed cause of tension and after a while your head just pops!"

"How philosophical of you, Kenny," Kyle raised a brow.

"Well I'm a very pliloslothical guy," He wiggled his brows, intentionally mispronouncing the word; "We should make sweet philosophy together."

"Oh god," Kyle rolled his eyes, tempted to slap the blond across the face. Violence was never the answer; but it made Kenny shut up for a period or two.

"Kenny, don't harass Kyle," Stan said.

"It ain't harassment, I was suggesting we get together and have a heated discussion about Plato and Aerosmith and that other philosophical shit!" Kenny shouted.

"It's Aristotle!" Kyle yelled.

"Whatever, it'd be all steamy and logical!"

"Let me guess, it takes place in your bedroom?"

"_Maybe_."

"How about no."

"Come on!"

"Kenny lay off," Stan said, "If anything Kyle should be talking philosophy with me." A smile spread on his face, joining in on the fun. Kenny had the right idea of thinking less to prevent stress; why not roll with a little friendly fighting along with it?

"_WHAT_?" Kyle whipped around to stare at Stan, jaw dropped. The last thing he needed was Stan joining in on Kenny's immaturity at Kyle's expense.

"Excuse me, but you've got a woman to please," Kenny teased, "And last I check ya ain't Mormon."

"Bros before hos?"

"Touché."

"Shut up BOTH OF YOU!" Kyle shouted, "Kenny, quit hitting on me when it's NEVER going to work—"

"Never say never, Ky," He winked.

"...And Stan, don't encourage him!" He turned to the ebon, "That's the last thing he needs."

"What? Is he our son now?" Stan asked.

"You two are kinda like an old married couple," Kenny muttered.

"Shut it, Ken," Kyle snapped before focusing on Stan again, "And he doesn't need you helping him make me feel uncomfortable!" All the blood rushed to his face, flustered.

"D'awww, he's blushing," Kenny chuckled.

Kyle glared at him as a warning.

"Calm down, man," Stan said, "We're just kidding around."

"Ugh..." Kyle crossed his arms tightly, sinking in his chair, "You're both assholes..."

"Oh god, does Kahl have sand in his vagina again?" Eric snorted.

"Fuck off, Fatass!" Kyle growled.

"Wut eva, I do wut I wawnt," Cartman cocked his head side to side, sticking out his tongue at the unhappy Jew.

"Now Eric don't ya think that's a lil' insensitive..." Butters muttered, suckling on his fingers to lick up the taco residue.

Eric just rolled his eyes, not even bothering with a response. He was obviously just too damn stupid to understand that Kyle deserved it for being a little good Jew-shoes.

"Of course he's insensitive," Kenny said, "He's the reincarnation of Hitler."

"Don't give him something to be proud of," Kyle's tone was lower, bitter as old coffee.

Stan and Kenny looked down at him, both of them concerned that the 'other Kyle' would reappear. They then looked up at each other, asking each other if they were thinking the same thing.

_Is he really okay...?_

"Pfft, I'm already the son of a Denver Bronco," Eric sneered, "I'm already a hell of a lot more important than you."

"You're the _bastard_ son of a Denver Bronco," Kyle hissed, hands balling into fists beneath the table. _**Who the fuck does he think he is...? **_

"Still better than a bunch of filthy Jews," He said, "Especially when one of them's a big fat Jersey bi—"

_SLAM!_

"_IF YOU CALL MY MOM A BITCH ONE MORE TIME CARTMAN I'LL KICK YOUR ASS STRAIGHT TO HELL AND BACK!_"

The outburst pierced the usual buzz of the lunchroom, the surrounding tables growing dead silent. More than a few heads turned, staring at the fight. Squabbles between Eric and Kyle were routine; but ones colossal as these rarely broke out. Today they were _really_ at it.

Kyle stood, leaning over the table, fists vibrating on the surface. His entire arms shook, tremors pulsing through him as he breathed deeply in and out. His eyes squeezed shut, closing him off from the room, leaving him to his racing enraged thoughts.

_**He can't say that to me! That fuckshit doesn't even know who he's dealing with! He has the IQ of a Nazi peanut, anyway...but still how fucking DARE he! He's worse than Craig even! I'm the smartest fucking guy in school! IN TOWN EVEN! Doesn't he know that I'm the one who keeps everything going? I basically move EVERYTHING along! Dammit, I'm the only one who even LEARNS anything at the end of the week! Everyone else is just FUCKING RETARDED! ESPECIALLY THAT NO GOOD FUCKSHIT FATASS BIGOTTED ERIC GODDAMN CARTMAN!**_

"Ugh..." His head pounded, the angry alien thoughts _hurting_ him. Something subtle he could overlook but all of that...

_That's not...me..._

His hands unclenched, shaking even more freely. Kyle didn't notice—he didn't care—every bit of pain centred on his head, driving into his brain with a jackhammer.

The brunet across the table narrowed his eyes, face distorting into a nasty scowl. A fight was just what he was looking for today...Waking up in a crappy ass mood made a man want to do strange things for relief. Snapping Kyle's neck would be the _perfect_ way to improve the day; hell his _month_ would be made. A glassy reddish glimmer came to his eyes, watching Kyle grow a bit faint. _He thinks he's so high and mighty...He won't think that much longer..._

Butters turned pale, mouth gaping open. He cowered in fear looking at the situation, unsure what was going on. All he knew was that none of this was good; oh hamburgers, was it not good!

Stan widened his eyes more, forcing his eyelids as high as they could go. Bells and whistles sounded in his head, telling him to get the fuck up and do something. His nervous system, however, ran like snail mail, all reflexes slowed tenfold. All Stan really could do was stare, despite how much he wanted to get in gear and pull Kyle out.

Kenny, like Stan, had every siren and red alert blaring at the same time. It was wrong to have ignored Kyle on the bus-the guilt _choked_ him in those moments—but this was a new level of wrong. And, unlike Stan, he could _move_ and actually _do something_ about it. Since he didn't do that before, he wasn't missing his chance now.

He stood up, grabbing Kyle's shoulders, absorbing a few quavers.

_Worse than I thought..._

"Let's just..." His eyes flickered around the room, catching all the stares, "Let's just have you come with me a minute..."

He started walking back slowly, pulling Kyle with him. The redhead complied, lost in his thoughts, rolling along with whatever was going on. His cranial pain intensified, digging deeper as the blond led him out through the double doors of the cafeteria.

Everyone watched until the double doors slammed shut, the boys out of sight and out of the attention.

A few minutes passed before the usual lunchroom talk started up again, but tension still hung over the table like a ghostly spirit.

"Sweet Jesus..." Butters forced out, voice high and soft as a mouse's squeak.

Eric blinked, glaring at the double doors a little longer, and then went back to eating, crunching on his meal as though nothing happened.

Stan remained perfectly still, processing what just happened. His muscles stiffened, turning him into a statue of a boy. _What happened...__**really**__? _

The oddities of the day lingered in his mind, warning him of some grim goings on yet still mystifying him. The whole day kept passing by like a walking through a fog; losing touch with reality and letting imagination play tricks on the mind.

Only, the deeper he went, the less they felt like tricks. They _were_ **tricks**, right?

Logic had to be somewhere, just laughing at him, pointing out how silly he was for thinking of so many deeper meanings to ridiculous little problems. He was tired because sleep just caught up with him. He had nightmares because of all the caffeine. He saw colours because he banged his damn head. Wendy was out of it because she had womanly problems. Cartman was angry because...well he was angry. Butters was hungry because he got grounded without any food or something. And Kyle was...Kyle was just under massive amounts of stress and letting that get to him.

That all made more sense than outlandish explanations! The connections weren't hidden, they were just nonexistent. That was all, wasn't it?

The line between logic and imagination blurred as the ebon sat stewing in his own foggy mesh of reasoning, every hunch and suspicion flying away like a helium balloon set free. The ideas went up, up, up, but disappeared into the haze. And with each balloon's vanishing another load of bricks rained down on him, urging him that thinking was the enemy.

Not just over-thinking; regular thinking was the evil.

"H-Hey Stan..." Butters chirped.

He shook his head, releasing every theoretical balloon and turning to Butters, abandoning the haze in favour of the human beam of sunshine and starlight.

"Yeah?"

"You okay?" The blond twiddled his thumbs, "Ya just kinda stared off into space and all..."

"I'm fine," He lied, his voice as dreamy as his mind. He stole one more glance at the door, trying to re-establish reality (or at very least the lunchroom), "_Just fine..._"

The word _fine_ lost its meaning that day.

* * *

"Kyle, Kyle, KYLE," Kenny shook the boy, forcing him out of his trembling state.

He had the redhead propped against the lockers, vibrating on the cold metal. Kyle gained a sickly pallor, unnerving Kenny even more. South Park was the capital of weird weekly happenings but today just took the cake; and verged on leaving a larger toll than any wrecked town.

Ever so slowly, Kyle's eyelids rose, revealing dimly shining emerald. An off, _vulnerable_ gleam to the green set off a trigger; the strong 'I can take anything' mature one had a weakness. Kyle never showed weakness. _Broflovskis weren't weak_.

Kyle blinked, the pressure on his head lessening. With each blink the gleam died away, fully vanishing by the time Kyle had the strength to lift his head without it throbbing.

He stared at Kenny, expressionless, emotionless. The weakness at least gave him some form of humanity to him, but now he was just an empty shell. _An empty shell in a mess of illusion_.

"Kyle...?" The name slipped from Kenny's lips, the word lighter than air. Reality took a surprise vacation, but Kenny wanted it to get the fuck back before he crossed into the Twilight Zone.

Kyle rubbed his eyes, groaning as his systems rebooted.

"Christ..." He muttered, running a hand up to his forehead, fingers sneaking under the ushanka to weave through his curly mop. He readjusted to the setting, noting that he wasn't glowering at Eric in the lunchroom anymore, "How'd I get here...?"

"I dragged you dude," Kenny answered, "It got kind of intense and I wasn't about to let Fatass snap your bones like bunches of twigs."

"He wasn't going to do that," Kyle rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning on the lockers, "He looked pissed but I bet he wa—"

"_He was_," It was a _fact_.

"Don't cut me off," Venom soaked his words.

"Okay," The blond took a step back, "But I ain't lying. He was about to snap your pretty lil' neck."

"As much as I appreciate the flattery, you're acting far too overprotective of me, today," He paused, an odd sensation tingling on his tongue. He shook his head, letting it pass, "I mean, Stan's usually worse than you."

"Stanny couldn't move for whatever reason," _I should kick his ass for not doing jack shit..._ "And ya looked like ya were gonna pass out."

"So you dragged me here and...Held me against a locker...?" Kyle gave him an '_Are you trying to fucking date rape me?_' look.

"...What?" He didn't understand the look, but he still didn't like it.

"Never mind..." He grumbled, standing up straight and looking around the ghost town hallway, "Let's just get back to the guys to tell them everything's cool now."

"Can you go one day without complimenting me?"

"What?"

"Every day you have to call me some term of endearment even! Even if I don't see you I'll get a text message or some wall post and every damn time there's a string of pretty words laced somewhere in there!"

"Well I just do that to people in general!"

"You never do that to Stan, or Cartman, or anyone else really."

"Uh..." The blond bit his lip. _Now that I think about it...I guess I do that a lot more to 'im than anyone else...but that's because we're friends...oh god no wonder Bebe makes up screwy homo connections..._

"You...you really don't notice that much..." Kyle tilted his head. His annoyance faded, shock settling. The genuine uncertainty only made the blond more sincere; he didn't notice when he did it.

"No?" Kenny finally said with a shrug, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, "Do you, like...want me to stop?"

Kyle opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He wasn't sure what to even say! But on top of that, _why would he want them to stop_? Sure, some of them were probably 'gay' and 'retarded', but they were still truthful, to the point, and flattering.

_**And I deserve every one of those...**_

"...No..." He said, voice barely above a whisper.

A long silence ensued, the duo staring at each other. The air thickened, the unspoken question of 'Why did we bring this up?' hanging in the vacant hall. Kenny kept scratching his neck, occasionally tugging on his collar. His gaze wandered away from Kyle, focusing instead on the floor, making faces at the ground. Kyle, meanwhile, kept his eyes on the blond; not looking at him, but looking more _through_ him. Simple as he seemed, there was a lot more to Kenny than whoring and boozing, so many niches Kyle probably didn't even know about existing somewhere in a smoggy, dirty mind. Figuring out what was in some of those nooks and crannies, he knew, would clear up a few things; though he doubted that even Kenny knew all the secret passages. Of all personas, the most complex than that of the poor player, the one almost everyone thought to be the flattest and easiest to figure out.

"...Do you smell strawberries?" Kenny asked, breaking the painful plague of quietness.

"What?" Kyle cocked his head.

"Never mind, bro, let's get back to the caf," Kenny stuffed his hands in his pockets, taking the first few bouncing steps towards the double doors.

"...Yeah..." Kyle decided not to ponder Kenny's randomness and just follow.

The two turned, crossing the hall casually. Kenny reached out to push on the bar of the door when it pulled away, opening seemingly on its own. Millie, the strawberry blonde co-captain of the Cows Cheer Squad, stepped out, gasping when she saw Kenny and Kyle on front of her. Right behind her was Wendy, staring down at her shoes, ebony bangs shielding her eyes.

"Oh, hi boys," Millie said, her Southern accent adding a charming softness to her words. A light pastel blush coloured her cheeks as the girl shuffled her feet. She still felt awkward around boys, something all the other girls shrugged off. And Kenny found that one of the most adorable things about her.

_A cheerleader's just what I need...and she's probably the cutest on the squad...SCORE!_

"Hello, Miss Millie," Kenny purred, wiggling his eyebrows. His stomach may have been full but his sexual appetite had yet to be pleased. So why not eat a classy Southern belle out for lunch?

"Oh god," Kyle knew that tone and knew where Kenny was going with this.

Kenny looked over Millie's shoulder, noticing the Wendy the walking cloud of despair, as she appeared.

"Hey, Westaburger," He waved.

Wendy peeked through her screen of hair, glancing between Kenny and Kyle, and then lowered her head. Harsh whispers raced through her mind, every venomous one cracking at her brain like a spiked whip.

_They shouldn't have that much time with him... They shouldn't be able to get away with whatever they want... A fuck-up and a nerd shouldn't get more credit than me...__**I deserve it why the hell do they have to rub it in?**_

Kenny bit his lip, lowering his hand. _Well someone's got some massive cramps..._

"Oh, Kyle," Millie looked over at him, "I saw that fight. You musta been real riled up at Cartman this time."

"I was..." Kyle trailed off, gaze wandering over to Wendy.

_She looks like even more of a train wreck than before... _

_**She'll get over it, no need to give her two shits grace...**_

"Anyway," Kenny coughed, directing Millie's attention—and in turn everyone else's—back to him, "Where ya off to?"

"Oh, just my locker to get Lola my—"

"Perfect!" He didn't even bother letting her finish, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her off, "I'll walk ya!"

"KENNY!" She yelped, squirming as she was whisked off.

"Bye, Wendy! Bye, Ky!" The blond called back, the smirk on his face reflecting the dirty thoughts on his mind.

"Bye, Kenny..." Kyle waved, watching him drag off his next sexual mission.

"Someone should put that dog on a leash..." Wendy mumbled. The thought didn't even run through her mind, words slipping out without her consent or knowledge.

"What?" Kyle snapped his head to face her, ears detecting a sound but not catching her words.

"Huh?" _Jesus Christ...what did I even say...? _"Nothing..." Without another word she hurried out, 'accidently' shouldering Kyle as she sped past him. Her clanking footsteps echoed through the halls as she headed to the girls' bathroom, hoping to splash some sense into her.

Kyle looked around, left in a puzzled daze.

_Maybe something is...__**no...**__It's just me..._

He shook his head and held a hand out, stopping the door before it closed again. He walked back into the cafeteria, readjusting his hat as he headed back for the table.

A few sets of eyes glanced at the Semite as he passed, the occasional murmur rippling through the table he passed; but Kyle didn't care. This day was teaching him not to care.

A smile sprouted when he saw Stan pecking at his rice, the blank expression somehow inviting. On top of that, Jimmy was talking to Butters and Cartman, motioning his head towards his lunch table. As Kyle neared, he separated their speech from the rest of the crowd.

"I-it'll only take a sec-cu-cu-cond," Jimmy stammered, "Pl-please gois; it'll really help K-Kevin ow-ow-out."

"Come on, Eric," Butters entreated the brunet, rising from his seat, "You're done with lunch and Jimmy needs a helpin' hand!"

"HMPF!" Cartman pouted, refusing to move his ass one bit.

"I'll p-pay you," Jimmy offered, "Really!"

Cartman looked around the room, stopping when he spotted the redhead headed straight for the table.

"Fine," He said, rolling out of the chair. Jimmy started leading them away before Cartman asked, "How much though?"

"Oh, about-t...Fifteen dowllars,"

"UH, Jimmy, ya breakin' my balls here."

The three were gone by the time Kyle reached took a seat. He looked at Stan, seeing the ebon scoop up a few grains of rice, and then dump them back onto the tray. His eyes were locked on the grains, almost expecting them to suddenly grow legs and tap dance for him. He didn't even notice Kyle's presence at first.

"...Stan?" Kyle said.

Stan surged out of his trance, dropping the spoon in surprise. He looked over at his best friend, staring at him with half-lidded, worn eyes.

"You're back..."

"Yeah. What's up with...?"

"Jimmy's recruiting 'em to help him and Kevin search for Kenny."

"What...?"

"He wants to stick a lightsaber up his ass for the fling with his sister."

"Figures..."

"...Where's Kenny, anyway...?"

"Chasing cheerleaders."

"Oh..."

"Yeah..."

"Which one?"

"Millie,"

"Again?"

"Again."

"He's gonna crash and burn."

"I guess..." Kyle shrugged, tempted to mention the little run in with Wendy. He balanced the sentence on the tip of his tongue, torn between ignoring the incident and telling Stan about his girlfriend's curious (_**BITCHY...**_) behaviour.

"Kyle...?" Stan knew that look when he saw it, "Do you have something to—"

"Are you still tired?" He asked quickly, swallowing his complaints and switching subjects.

"Uh...yeah..." Stan said. If he had enough energy, he'd at least try to press Kyle into telling what was on his mind, but today it he figured arguing was futile, "I...I think I'll just sleep when I get home..." His stomach churned at the notion.

"A nap is probably the best thing you can get right now."

"Yeah but I still have like... Three classes plus detention left..." _I could always sleep in detention though..._

"Hey, you can manage."

"Ya sure? I've nearly nodded off a couple times while you were gone..." And that goddamn nightmare stopped him every time.

"Dude, I know you can," Kyle smiled, "And, push comes to shove, I could always distract Mr. Tombaugh with a constellation quest so you can get a little extra napping crammed in..."

Stan stayed quiet, lips curving into a grin.

"Did I mention how awesome you are, dude?"

"Always helps to hear it every now and then," _**Or all the time...**_

"Well you're the most styling nerd ever and I'm totally lucky you're my super best friend."

"For life?" Stan held up a fist.

Kyle stared a moment, then mimicked his friend, lifting a fist. They two bumped knuckles, sealing their bond in the most sacred of best friend rituals.

"For life, man," Kyle nodded, "_For life_..."

* * *

"Ain't it a beautiful day, Millie?" Kenny asked, taking long swaggering strides as he walked with an arm still slung over the girl's shoulder. His mindset turned from serious business to much needed pleasure, the thought of having a little 'relaxation' overpowering all thoughts of responsibility and stress. The only worry he had was the worry of getting shot down.

_I need it, dammit... _a voice in his head hissed, yearning for that heat and short-term passion he so craved,_ I __**NEED**__ IT..._

"Kenny...this ain't the way to my locker," Millie said dully, squirming in the blond's hold. She looked around, hoping for someone to randomly wander down the halls and save her.

"Oh it isn't?" Kenny shrugged, "My mistake," He showed no sign of turning in the right direction.

Millie groaned. Everyone had grown accustom to Kenny's habit of pulling pretty girls aside and filling their heads with sweet words, but not every girl wanted to go down in history as another whore of the infamous 'McCormick harem'. The harem was just a fabrication of rumours sewn together, but being known as one of Kenny's quick affairs automatically earned the girl a label. And Millie wasn't up for ending up like the movie Easy A; not when she was the good girl of the cheer squad.

"So..." The blond looked down, smirking at the girl.

"So?" She looked back up, face warped into a sneer.

"Wanna have sex?"He winked.

_BAMF!_

Millie elbowed him in the side, hitting a bruise right on the bulls-eye.

"Hey!" He winced, setting the girl free. She whirled out of his hold, putting her hands on her hips. She glared at him as he stroked his side, uttering a few swears under his breath.

"Asshole!" She shouted, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"Hey, hey, no need for foul language, Miss Millie," He shook a finger at her, "I was just takin' ya on a walk."

"You just asked me to have sex with ya!"

"Well it'd just be a little casual sex."

"You fucking prick! Don't ya even wonder why people look down on ya?"

"It's because I'm poor with million dollar looks, yeah?"

"IT'S BECAUSE YOU'RE A FUCKING MAN WHORE!"

He sighed. _God why does everyone gotta say that... _"I'm _not_ a man-whore, a slut, or any of that. You should know better."

"Well you've made quite a name for yourself fucking every girl in site!

"People say a lotta things; not all of 'em are true."

"Don't think that I dunno about rumour credibility!"

"Jesus, no need to shout."

"Still, I doubt ya realise the kinda rep ya have!"

"You're kidding right? I worked hard to earn that."

"Oh yeah, that's why ya have a load of whores..."

"I don't have whores. For fuck's sake I ain't some damn pimp. I'll get a couple quickies every now and then but I'm not some kind of crazy fucker with eighty mistresses on hand."

"That's not what I've heard."

"Ya can't listen to everything the streets say. Because some of 'em lie. Ain't good to listen to lies like that."

"So that _wasn't_ you who fucked Stoley's sister in the janitor's?"

Kenny opened his mouth, pausing to think of some defence. _Shit I forgot about her..._

"Well...?" Millie raised a brow.

"It kinda just happened, ya know?" He forced out, failing to come up with anything better, "Casual sex. She wanted to...I wanted to..."

"Uh-huh," The girl turned on her heels, taking the first few steps back to the lunchroom, "I really don't need to here anymore."

"No, Millie, wait!" _After all I've been through today I ain't losin' a fine catch like that...I'll just settle with a lick I swear... _He sped after her, zooming in front of her and blocking her path.

"Kenny, _MOVE_!" Her patience wore thinner by the moment.

"Hear me out, will ya?"

"There ain't a thing TO hear, bastard!"

"D'oh, I bet ya don't mean that," He flashed a smile, flipping on the charm.

"Oh, I think I do," Her brown eyes narrowed, only growing more annoyed with him.

"Come on, it ain't very ladylike to not let a guy give his two cents."

"Well for one, you're poor as shit so I bet ya don't have two cents to spare. And for two, you're not exactly a gentleman."

"I can be if ya want though," He leaned over her, a lustful, royal blue sheen to his eyes, "Just 'cause I'm poor doesn't mean I don't got class."

"Well I never heard a gentleman talk like a hick," She took a step back, "And I told ya, I'm not interested."

"Oh, but Millie...this isn't about sex."

"I'm pretty sure it is, Ken..."

_Time for Plan B..._

He reached down and grabbed her hand, making a point to hold it gently.

Millie frowned, "Kenny..."

He didn't listen, raising the girl's fragile hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles like a regular small town prince charming. From under his short lashes, he gazed at his Southern belle, a smouldering, suave entreating Millie to agree with him.

Millie froze, eyes locked with Kenny's. Rouge coloured her cheeks, spreading and darkening to a deep cherry red. That look...it was irresistible.

_Supernaturally irresistible._

Kenny tried to make a move or two on her in the past, but every time she shot him down. However, gazing into his blue star eyes, she couldn't remember why she'd rejected him. An unnaturally attraction budded and blossomed, a newfound affection flowering from the soils of discontent. She could've sworn that the pauper really was a prince in disguise.

A smirk grew on the boy's lips, eyes twinkling with delight. With just a kiss of the hand Mille fell into a trance. _My devilishly good looks never fail... _

His eyes did more of the talking, the warm azure commanding Millie to do as Kenny said. It wrapped her up in a strong, unbreakable seduction like a snake squeezing a mouse. And he was out to hear some _squeaks_.

"So..." Kenny said huskily, "Are ya still thinkin' about going back to your locker? Or...do ya want the two of us to slip off somewhere and have some fun."

She remained mute. Whatever Kenny was doing with that look, it drugged her mind, abandoning her in a haze. And the only one who could direct her to the light at the end of the tunnel was Kenny himself.

"Well...?" Kenny raised a brow. He didn't know or have control over what he was doing, ignorant to the darkened hypnotism his eyes performed.

"Ya wanted to hook up, didn't ya?" She batted her eyes.

Kenny's smirk widened into a toothy grin.

Today really was turning into his lucky day.

* * *

Wendy burst into the girls' room, head pounding from all the racing, cutting thoughts. The whispers refused to cease, taunting her as she bent over, scanning under the stalls, checking for anyone who may actually be using the restroom. The coast was clear, not a soul using the stalls, meaning Wendy really was alone.

"God," She groaned, another whipping slashing at her.

_I'm better than that, why do they get it? Why do they have what I can't have? Why can't it be mine, mine, MINE?_

She staggered over to the sinks, nearly collapsing onto them. She grasped the edges of the plumbing, breathing deeply, closing her eyes and trying to clear her thoughts.

All her negativity lashed out on her, screaming in her brain, sounding like laments of tortured prisoners.

"Stop it. Stop it. Stop it." She muttered, wincing as the flares of envy ambushed her. Wendy reached out for the handle, pulling it. The water rushed out from the faucet, the gushing waterfall soothing her, drowning out some of the cries of dread tormenting her.

She cups her hands beneath the water, collecting a pool of cool liquid in her hands. Carefully, the girl bent over the sink, taking one more breath before splashing her face with water.

Ice slapped her face, the water freezing as it hit her skin. Liquid turned to glass, feelings shards shred at her cheeks and forehead. Every voice in her head let out a racket of loud, blood-curdling screeches, burned by the fierce frost.

"JESUS!" Wendy screamed, stumbling back. Her boots slid on a booby trap piece of toilet paper, plopping on her bum. Her hands wiped off the acidic water on her jacket, holding her pained face.

_IT FUCKING BUUUUUUUUUUUURNS! THOSE FUCKERS ARE MAKING YOU BUUUUUUURN! THEY SHOULD BE THE ONES BURNING LIKE THIS! THEM! THEM! THE-!_

"_SHUT UP!"_ Wendy cried, tears squeezing from her eyes as she stroked her face. There were no cuts, or pointed pieces of ice; just smooth, cool skin. The pain faded as her finger-pads ran over her skin, her healing touch of reality mending the invisible, imaginary wounds.

She breathed deeper, her mind quieting, all the shrieks dying into murmurs, most barely audible. The only other sound in the room aside from her breath was that of the running water gushing into the basin.

"Get a grip, Wendy..." She told herself, slowly getting to her feet, "This is just...you're freaked out...this isn't anything to be so stressed about..." Her broken reassurances helped her as much as paying with Monopoly money.

The ebon brushed the dirt off her clothes, unsticking the toilet paper from her thigh before looking up at her reflection in the mirror.

Wendy Testaburger wasn't staring back; how could that girl be her? Instead of a neat, proper disposition, the girl in the glass looked confused, pained, and distressed, almost like a mental patient. Ebony strands hung limply off her head, the natural bounce and shine nowhere to be found. The girl didn't stand proud and tall like Wendy—oh no—she shivered where she stood, startled and set-off by even her own image. The playful, sunny sparkle to the hazel blew out like a candle, leaving worrisome green smoke in its wake. In fact, her entire skin had a green tinge, as though she really was turning into the Wicked Bitch of the West.

Wendy felt a part of her crumble to pieces, the reflection so alarming—so sickening to her—that she became another person entirely.

"Get a grip..." She repeated, lips scarcely moving as the hollow words left her lips. The school had to have replaced the mirrors with one from a funhouse, since these warped, surreal images couldn't reflect reality. Could they?

_It's their fault I'm like this..._ The murmurs started up again, _I am much better than this...I should make THEM feel the way I DO NOW..._

Her stomach lurched, the most detestable feeling boiling in her gut. Whatever nightmare she was living in, it was pushing her to pieces. No, no, no, none of this was happening! Where was the sanity of it all? Why her? Why her?

"Why me?" She shook her head, tearing her face away from the mirror. Without another word she bolted out, hoping her feet and sense of direction would carry her to the only place she could turn for any help in the school.

Or, at very least, it was her last resort before she turned to more serious help.

* * *

"Hey Bebe," Sally asked, walking up to the blonde's lunch table. Most of the usual crowd left, some for the bathroom, some for the lockers, and others to sneak off and do things that weren't exactly school appropriate. The only ones still there were Bebe, Annie, and Lola.

Bebe looked up, smiling when she saw the redhead.

"Yes?" She asked, speaking as though she was sweet queen in the highest court of a fairytale land.

"Have you seen Ester...?" Sally tilted her head, "I can't find her and there are rumours going around."

"What kind of rumours?" Bebe bit back her giggles. The only real rumour that would be going around would be the one about Kenny's little exploit. The other two noticed Bebe's amusement, but didn't comment.

"Well..." Sally sighed, "I thought you of all people would know considering you're friends with 'im, but apparently Ester and Kenny got caught in the janitor's closet..." She bit her lip, making motions with her hands, "_You know what I mean_..."

"Oh..." Annie deadpanned, missing that slip of gossip.

Lola snickered, while Bebe just smiled, acting unfazed.

"Well he is a pretty good fuck, so he says," The blonde shrugged.

"That's not the point!" She stamped her foot, "This shit's going viral and you know what happens when people see ANYONE with Kenny!"

"If she's really freaking out over that stupid harem crap, go tell her it's a load of bull," Bebe rolled her eyes, "Ken's got enough class to keep out of the pimp business."

"But a couple people saw her crying and I heard some of the other girls call her a whore..." The redhead grew more upset as Bebe strayed from the topic.

"Oh god, I think just about every girl in school has been called a whore at one point or another," Annie snorted, "She's probably taking things too seriously."

"Fuck how seriously she's taking this, the guy called her a bitch!" Sally raved, "After being a complete asshole to her then avoiding her, I think she's got a right to be crying! I just want to help her!"

"Look, Sally," Bebe stood up, flipping her hair, "Kenny's a dick. He's PROUD of being a dick. He PARADES his dickishness around. He doesn't CARE. Guys usually DON'T care. And, I'm sorry, but we can't help you."

"Can you at least stop the rumours?" Sally begged, "You know Ester, she doesn't like limelight anymore. I mean, one of the reasons she drifted from your group in middle school was because she couldn't handle it..."

"No, it was because she wasn't cut out for it," Bebe spat, eyes shining gold, "And if she wanted to avoid this, she should've thought things through."

"Did you bleed through your tampon?" Sally's brow twitched, "Or have I just never noticed how bitchy you could be."

"Oooh..." Lola and Annie leaned over, watching the catfight.

Bebe scoffed, shrugging off the remark. Typically, she'd apologise and rephrase things nicely; but today she was pulling out the big guns instead.

"How about, I'm taking things realistically?" A vapid edge sharpened her words, narrowing her eyes at the girl who dared call her a bitch, "Kenny's known for his dick and she could've fought him off if she had enough _dignity_. Don't act like she didn't have more than a few image issues."

"What the fuck is wrong with you today?" Sally snarled, "You're acting like you're better than her!"

"Well, honey, it's not my fault I'm so popular." Bebe put her hands on her hips, smirking.

The Mean Girls quote left the table silent in awe, Lola and Annie staring, and Sally boiling with rage.

"I..." Sally shook her head, "God, I can't even _look_ _at you_ right now!"

"It's a fact, love," Bebe sat back down, leaning back in her throne, gold lighting up, "And if you can't deal with it, well I guess you'd better go."

Sally shook her head, glowering at the blonde, disgusted.

"Bye-bye," Bebe waved, flashing a superficial smile.

"Cunt," Sally coughed, whipping around and storming off.

Bebe maintained her smile until the redhead blurred into the crowd, rolling her eyes and sticking out her tongue.

"Ho," She muttered.

"Wow..." Annie gasped, staring at Bebe in astonishment.

"Thank you, thank you, I do what I can," Bebe winked, "Now, Annie, do me a favour and go tell everyone in school Sally's a slut who stuffs her bra."

"What?"

"_Just do it_," She glared at the other blond, fierce gold shining.

Annie was far too intimidated by the tone to notice any other change to Bebe's disposition, nodding her head before scurrying off, searching for circles to feed the information to.

"That takes care of that," Bebe sighed, reaching into her bag, searching for her magazine.

"I wonder where Wendy and Millie are..." Lola thought aloud, giving the door a suspicious look.

"Well Wendy's having a few girl problems and may be tending to those," Bebe flipped her magazine, opening to the page she'd left off on in Art History, "And I think the fact that Kyle entered without Kenny means that he's probably working an angle on Millie."

"You're rather observant," The brunet remarked, giving the blonde's suggestion a thought.

"I'm not a dumb blonde, sweetie; I just know how live a little," Bebe hissed, reading over an article on Robert Pattinson, "Now Millie should be back soon, same with Wendy. I mean, Millie's pretty good about staying loyal to her gooey crush on Craig of all people." _God that woman has shitty taste in men..._

"I guess you're right..." Lola sighed, resting her cheek on her hand, "If he tried anything, the last thing Millie would do would be to actually go through with it."

* * *

"YES! YES! LIKE THAT! YES!" Millie mewled. She clung to the desk as her blond seducer hammered into her, still under his spell.

Kenny kept a hold of her shoulders, keeping her bent over the school desk as he thrusted in. The idea of more casual screwing around felt distant, only latently remembering who he was in. It started with an M; that was good enough for his memory.

Libido overrode thinking, the boy too caught up in the lust to give a damn anymore. He just wanted his heart to race, his skin to sweat, and his worries to disappear while he lost himself in the sweet pleasure.

They had a good oral warm up already, but something in the back of his head kept scolding him.

_You're taking too long! You should've cum! Did you pick the right one? Fuck the whore's worthless! Just try and finish it up!_

None of those thoughts reassured the fragments of Kenny's mind.

He shut his eyes, letting the girl's melodious moans fill his eardrums, hoping that'd be enough encouragement to get the quickie done already.

_But it's still taking so long..._

As the pressure rose—taking its sweet time—a blue spot formed in the blackness of his shut eyes, the azure star glowing. This wasn't an ordinary floater, though, the star having five distinct points. The star grew, thin circles rippling out from it as he neared release.

_...The...fuck...? _That kind of stuff didn't happen randomly.

Then came the climax.

The star exploded, dark blue blinding him, burning flames flaring at his eyes. _Just like last time._

"_SHIT!"_ Kenny rubbed his eyes, hissing through gritted teeth as his eyeballs burned in their sockets.

Millie hummed, returning from her daze. Thoughts of reality sprinkled back into her mind as Kenny pulled out, hissing, cursing, and all around suffering.

"That was..." Millie trailed off, blinking a few times, "..._oh fuck_!" She snapped up, whirling around. Her eyes bulged; face reddening as she stared at Kenny. As the blond rubbed his eyes, she saw her reputation crumbling before hers.

"Fucking eyes!" Kenny shouted, concern focused on himself more than the girl.

"_YOU ASSHOLE!"_ Millie screamed, smacking Kenny square across the face.

"OW!" The added stinging wasn't helping, "The hell?"

"The hell?" She raged, fire burning in her own eyes, "How the hell did things end up like this?"

"Because I'm a suave motherfucker and you finally came to your senses," Kenny muttered, opening his eyes again. His vision, aside from the obnoxious blue frame on everything, remained crystal clear. After a few blinks, the frame diluted, seeing again with perfect clarity.

"That's not it!" Millie looked around, absorbing her surroundings, "And...IS THIS THE ART HISTORY ROOM?"

"Yeah, it is," Kenny replied, "It was the nearest empty place. And you agreed to some casual sex, and dammit you LIKED it."

"I don't remember!"

"Well I do, and if there's one thing I prioritise in, it's making sure everything's consensual. I mean, come on, I've been trying to bone ya since, what, middle school? If I wanted to be a sick creep and date-rape ya, I'd've probably done it by now."

Millie opened her mouth, staring off in thought a minute. He _did_ have a point, and he was straightforward about _everything_...

She sighed, burying her face in her hands.

"I just...I shouldn't've done that..."

"I'm sorry. If ya were saving yourself for someone, ya could've said something."

"I just..." She shook her head, "I think I'm just going to go wash up for class..."

"Do that," he nodded, "But pull ya panties up. Britney already tried that look in 2006 and it didn't work out well then."

Millie sniffled, wiping her eyes before pulling up her underwear. Head hanging down in shame, she walked to the exit, pausing with her hand on the doorknob.

"Kenny...?"

"Yeah?" He sighed.

"Can you...not tell anyone about this...? Especially Craig?"

"I promise," Kenny said, hating the guilt Millie was showering him with, "And I won't try anything else on ya."

"Y-yeah..." Although that wasn't the exact apology she'd hoped for, Millie figured it was the best she'd get. Without another backwards glance, she left.

Kenny watched the door creak shut, zipping his pants just as the door shut with a clink.

"The fuck is up with today..." He mumbled, "Bad fucks, eye's burning, and..."

The memory of his friends hit him like a slab of bricks.

"_The guys!"_ He slapped his forehead, "Oh shit, they're acting weirder than me and all I can think about is my dick..."

He glared down at his groin, "This is all your fault, ya lil' fucker! You with your goddamn horny agenda in that head o' yours! Christ, sometimes there are more important things than sex, even I know that!" _I just...ya know...never really act upon in..._

He looked at the clock. Five minutes left before the period's end.

"Well...I may as well just meet 'em in Astronomy..." Kenny stretched, "And I should be good enough for the rest of the day..."

_...or until I'm outta here and can get a real nice chick to bang...one that's deeper than a kiddy pool..._

He shook his head, wandering to the door. The rest of his mind came back to him now that the short-lived afterglow all but vanished.

_CREEEEEEEEELINK!_

* * *

Damien stared into the floating, fiery orb, watching his lust-based victim wander off, trying to forget all his troubles in favour of his friends. The devil boy flicked his tongue, pleased with all he'd seen so far.

"Things appear to be going to plan..." He smirked, the orb splitting up into multiple screens, each centred on the seven chosen sinners.

"Some of you aren't even noticing a problem..." His eyes wandered to Eric and Butters, the wrath and gluttony cooking and stewing beneath their flesh without either of them giving much of a damn.

"Or just blatantly ignore it..." He caught a glimpse of Killer Queen Bebe.

"And others of you are too damn occupied to do anything..." His eyes flickered between Stanley the sloth and Kenny the Casanova.

"A few of you can sense a problem but are either too distraught by it to do anything..." He looked at Wendy rushing down the hall, scanning the doors for old Mr. Mackey's office.

"Or have been too distracted to notice..." He glanced at the Semite.

As his gaze shifted to each of his victims, his smile grew large enough to expose his pointed canines. His ruby eyes sparkled, filled with fiendish delight.

"And this...this is still day one..." He chuckled. He lifted an arm, staring at his wrist a moment.

A silver chain wrapped around loosely, various gemstones dangling from it like a charm bracelet. He had blue, azure, violet, green, gold, orange, and red stones, all of them glistening in the light of the hellish flames around.

"In a few weeks time..." He said, "_This_ will be your home..." He cackled, distorted laughter filling his chamber as he stared at the seven through the orb, sure that his master plan would work out swimmingly.

"_SOOOOOOOON?"_

"_WHAT DAD?_" He growled, knowing his father stood just outside the door to his chamber.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to come with me and—"

"_NO! DAD I'M FUCKING BUSY!"_

"O-okay...have fun in your room, son!"

"Like you give a crap anyway..."Damien grumbled, hearing his father's hoofs die down, drowned out by the sound of crackling flames. He shook his head, then turned back to the orb, gazing back at the damned teens.

"Anyway," He smiled, "You'll see just what the son of the devil can do..._you'll all see_..."

* * *

**A/N: Oh wow, that took a while to write. Ugh, I'm sorry, I feel as though this isn't really up to par, but it's the best I could do at the moment. I've got loads for this story planned, stress and life have just been killing me. I don't know, I think that and the fact that this first day is lingering so much. It really will end next chapter though, I'm sick of it being the first day l-lol. But a lot of things I didn't plan before got to be included here so I'm at least relieved that happened.**

**Everyone's getting more sinful! Sin! Sin everywhere! Well, it's sneaking around. Cartman and Butters sorta ditched the chapter outside a few bit parts, but the girls got a lot more development that they may not have been able to get later on. I suppose :P And hey, Damien's back with a gay little bracelet. Oooh. We'll find out more about that and a handful of other things later.**

**Alright, on another subject, I am very busy. Like, school's starting up again and I have serious business to do. I'll try as hard as I can to squeeze in one more chapter before studies resume, but it's more important I work on my coursework than this (it saddens me too :T). But maybe I'll have a little more time to get my head in the game too since I feel like I've been fading in and out with this Dx**

**I thank you for reading. This is...well the longest chapter yet. There's plenty more to come, but just sit back. I'd love a review too, but you don't have to (I really would love to hear what ya think though, I know this isn't perfect...;;). **

**Again, I will try to muster up the inspiration/pencil in enough time to write then next chapter and finish the first day so things can really get crazy, but it may be a little while. Thanks for taking the time to read this and, to the reviewers, thanks for saying something. Well, just keep your magical demon orbs tuned to this station and wait for another vision of sinner to appear (WAT) ~CQO**


	8. Alarming

Wendy sat in the blue plastic chair outside Mr. Mackey's office, staring at her quivering hands. Although Mr. Mackey wasn't the world's best guidance counsellor, he'd always been there...sort of. From elementary school up until now, he always had time for a kid with a problem. Even if he couldn't help, he was one of the few who actually listened. Not _well _but he was better than nothing.

She kicked her feet, attempting to distract herself from all the chaos running through her mind. The sound of her continuous panting drummed in her ears, all other sounds drowned out completely. Everything around her seemed to fade, all the colour draining, isolating her in a nightmarish living horror movie. That's just what it was to her; a bad horror movie that fucked her psyche.

_I know something's wrong...I know that for a fact...But...What can I do...when I can't even...breathe calmly...? I mean...what the...this is all...too...too...I _don't_ even _know_ anymore..._

She hugged her arms, digging her fingernails into the fabric, a part of her fighting to cut skin. Farther back in her mind, lower than the screams, was a voice muttering over and over for blood, for pain, _for this_.

_...Blood, bleed for what you've done, feel the suffering, the burn..._

It was a disease, a sickness, a virus. She knew that off the bat. But what it was doing was worse than the cold, than the flu, than any of that. It was a cancer, a cancer of the mind.

_...Cancer, multiple and destroy, tear it down..._

She felt something that didn't belong scurrying in her brain like a rat, knowing at the wires and pushing over boxes. The rat was an elusive one, vanishing through a hole in the flooring as soon as the hunt was on. And as the hunt progressed, her mental state seemed to digress.

_...Broken, break her faith, break her trust, break her self control, just fucking break her..._

"Stop it..." Wendy whispered, shivering. Who she was talking to—the voices screaming, the one chanting, the cancerous rat, or herself—she wasn't sure. She just wanted it to stop, "_Make it stop_..."

_CREEEEEEEEEEEEAK!_

Wendy's head snapped up with a gasp, blinking wildly as a figure emerged from the opening door.

Craig Tucker walked out the room, hands shoved in his pants pockets, wearing the same apathetic face he always did. He stared blankly at the air in front of his face as he stepped into the hall.

"C-Craig...?" She whispered. It wasn't a surprise to see him, but she had to reassure herself that she was still in South Park High, and not the set of some cheesy low budget horror flick.

The boy glanced over at her, dull grey eyes gazing into the frightened hazel. He remained emotionless, features chiselled in place like a statue. He stayed silent a moment, analysing her before replying.

"Wendy," He stated.

In that moment, his nasal monotone voice sounded like a sweet silver bell, bringing about temporary peace.

_Looks like he hasn't changed..._

"Why are you here?" He asked, sliding the door shut with his foot, blank gaze locked on the ebon.

"Me?" She bit her lip, unsure what to say.

_...There's something wrong with this one, there's something very wrong, best not trust anyone, best take what is rightfully mine instead..._

Saying she heard voices and got burnt by cold water was out of the question.

"Yeah," Craig said, "You tend to stay out of trouble along with your goddamn boyfriend." The slightest edge of jealousy accented his sentence.

"It's just..." She hesitated, searching for the best phrasing.

_...Yes, my goddamn boyfriend, mine who no one else will lay a hand on, mine, mine, mine..._

"A few girl issues..."

"Oh..." Craig frowned, "I see."

"What were you expecting?" Her eyes narrowed, glaring into the blank grey, "And why are you here anyway?"

"Scrap with McCormick and Broflovski," He replied, leaving gout the details for the sake of his image, "They didn't get in trouble. They never get in trouble. Assholes."

_...Those two, damn those two, those two who have it all while having nothing at the same time, those two pitiful pigs..._

"Tell me about it..." Wendy muttered, rolling her eyes.

"They jerks to you too?" He raised a brow.

"Um..." Wendy wasn't sure how to reply. _They're not jerks...they just...HAVE EVERYTHING I WANT..._ "Well..."

_...Jerks isn't the word, jerks is too kind to use on them..._

The door reopened, Mr. Mackey's bulbous head poking out.

"C-Craig, you need to get back to class, mkay?" He mumbled, staring through his inch-thick lenses at the troublesome boy, "We can talk more about your guinea pig grief later in the week to see how you've progressed."

Craig winced, biting down on his lip. The slightest hint of pink tickled his cheeks—if only for a second—before he lowered his head, glaring down at his feet. With a parting flip-off, Craig trudged off to resume his regular school day.

Wendy watched, biting her lip.

_Those two just have to fuck everything up for everyone don't they?_

_...and they love to fuck up __**my**__ everything..._

"Wu-Wendy," Mr. Mackey coughed, adjusting his thin black tie, "Did you need to talk about something?"

"Huh?" Wendy blinked, turning back to the balding man. She stared dumbfounded at his foggy baby blue eyes, seeing her own reflection in the lenses of his glasses. The reflection was faint, but there was one thing she could make out perfectly; her eyes.

Vivid green balls of fire stared back at her, burning in her eye sockets. She'd crossed the line of tricks of the light, going to the next level of illusions, possibly further. Was she seeing correctly? Was this real? What the _hell_?

Her mouth hung open slightly, colour draining her face. The hisses and howls in her brain kicked it up a notch, making as much noise as they could whilst gazing into green. Her skin turned to ice, blood chilling as it raced through her veins.

This couldn't be real...

This couldn't be real...

_This wasn't real..._

Mr. Mackey removed his spectacles, taking away Wendy's mirror. The old man squinted, looking at the glasses, and then rubbed some fingerprints off with his tie, oblivious to Wendy's distress.

"Damn things always gettin' dirty..." He muttered, checking their clarity before putting them back on.

When he looked back at Wendy, Wendy pointedly looked at the floor, letting the screeches silence and gathering her senses, even feeling a little warmth.

"So, um, what are you here for, Wendy?" He asked again.

"I...I just..." She spoke soft as a lamb, bundling up and fidgeting in her seat, "I just need to talk about a few things...i-if you have time..."

_...Act like a child to calm down, calm down, keep things a secret, make things seem okay while they roll in on themselves, give that false appearance to destroy those destroying you..._

"Of course I have time, Wendy," Mr. Mackey opened the door wider, stepping aside to give her room, "Just come right in and have a seat. I can get you a, a glass of water if you need."

The thought of water made her cringe.

"That...that's okay..." She mumbled, slowly getting to her feet and stepping into the office, rubbing her arms, feeling sore spots from where her nails marked the skin (_They could go that deep...?_), "I'm...I'm okay..."

She gulped, stomach knotting at the word.

_If I was okay I wouldn't be here... I wouldn't be acting like this... Wendy what the hell is wrong with you...?_

_...Noticing is bad, talk it out, make the worry go away, at least for the now, dunk it under the surface, save it for the deeper water when there is no way to get out..._

"Good, now just take a seat right over there and we can see what, well what's bothering you," Mr. Mackey said, shutting the door as Wendy stepped into his room.

"Thank you..." She said.

She didn't sound like herself, she sounded like a shattered little girl who'd just seen a ghost.

Then again, whatever she saw, she didn't quite know what it was. But she didn't like it. She didn't like anything. She just wanted things to go back to normal.

Just yesterday things were normal. So recently things were like that? It felt like ages, eons even. Did normal even exist anymore?

She honestly had no clue.

* * *

Kenny roamed the halls alone, the lockers his only company, humming Britney Spears to himself as he took long, quick strides towards the astronomy room. The period still had a couple of minutes remaining, but Kenny thought he might as well loiter outside the astronomy class. Millie left so there was no use talking to her, plus standing in that room just made him feel a dreadful feeling of guilt sparked by his salacious behaviour. So, of all places, class was the safest.

The clouds of libido cleared, granting him with the ability to think about more important matters; his friends.

_Well before I got distracted by country girl, Kyle was in some deep shit... Wendy ain't really herself either but that's another story... Bebe can probably handle that one but still shit's not right... Stanny ain't speakin' of that nightmare... Which is pissin' me off... Cartman's on his period... Butters' has somethin' up too maybe but his parents might be starvin' the little shit... Can't do much for 'im... Or Wendy... Maybe not Cartman unless I'm in the mood for a trip to Hell... Stan and Kyle I can help... At least I HOPE I can..._

"_MCCORMICK!"_

Kenny froze, recognising that voice. He whirled around on his heels, seeing a rather peeved looking Kevin Stoley standing just down the hall. The boy's face was red with rage, a vein popping out prominently on his forehead, half-hidden by his messy shoe-polish black hair. Kenny could hear his heavy Darth Vadar breathing from where he stood, staring into wrathful toffee eyes.

_...Maybe bragging about fucking his sister was a bad idea..._

"Hey Kev," Kenny said, smiling innocently, "What's up?"

"Really, asshole?" Kevin spat, not up for pointless small talk, "_Really_?"

"You seem a little tense, man," Kenny took a small step back, "Is something bothering ya?"

"_You fucked my sister_," The boy barked, taking a few threatening strides forward, "_Do you think I'm that happy with you?"_

"I'm sorry, I'm sure the two of us can get a motel room after school if you're that pissy," Kenny said, peddling back. His nervous jaunts only provoked Kevin's wrath of the Sith more.

Kevin bared his teeth, balling his hands into fists. He was very overprotective of his younger sister. Kenny just made the mistake of crossing that line.

"You fucking prick! You screwed her then dumped her!" He raved, footsteps bellowing as he neared the blond, "Fuck and runs are the worst things a guy can do and you hurt her! _You fucking hurt her_!"

"Dude, calm the fuck down," Kenny narrowed his eyes, "She was okay with it, consensual. I didn't rape her, and I can tell her sorry later."

"Sorry won't cut it, assfuck!" Kevin snarled, "And I'm gonna kick your ass!"

"Like ya have it in yeah."

"Are you mocking a Jedi master?" Although the Star Wars reference gave Kenny the urge to snigger, the fire in Kevin's eyes told him that one giggle would lead to an instant attack with all 'The Force' he had.

"Kevin, we're friends, yeah? You know I can fix things!"

"All you can do is FUCK and FUCK SHIT UP!"

"Now you're just hurtin' my feelings, man."

Kevin growled, sounding more like a rouge Wookiee than a mild-mannered nerd.

Kenny bit his lip, glancing behind him. Almost at the end of the hall. And if he backed up too much, Kevin could close in on him no problem.

_Crap_.

Kenny wouldn't be cornered that easily, not if he could help it.

"Yeah, that's great, Kev, but I got somewhere to be." He flashed a smile at the raging ebon and scampered off, bolting down the hall with the quickness of a cheetah, sneakers screeching as he ran.

"Get back here, Kenny!" Kevin barked, after him like a brute dog chasing a cunning cat.

"Shit," Kenny swore, picking up speed when he saw Kevin round the bend and rush after him. Fast talking and wit couldn't save him anymore. Now it was all up to his feet.

_Note to self...Never fuck a guy's sister and brag... EVER..._

"_KENNY!"_

_...FUCK..._

* * *

Butters and Cartman walked side by side down the hall, searching for the loveable womaniser to turn in. The duo trekked the halls, going in circles multiple times, on high alert for a certain cocky blond in a bright orange parka. Jimmy worked for Stoley, and, by currency, they were under his employment too; Cartman for cash and Butters for the sake of helping.

Cartman wore a displeased, irked expression, grunting and groaning after every trudging step he took. He could care less about Kenny's victims of love—he'd rather not hear about them at all—but he did care about money. Luckily, Jimmy coughed up enough cash to hold him over. Helping Sci-Fi Stoley was no cheap deal, especially when turning in a long time partner in crime (who he'd sell out if the price was right).

Butters, meanwhile, kept twiddling his thumbs, eyes flickering around, searching for Kenny with an ill feeling bubbling in his stomach. Helping people was good, and Kevin was a friend in need... But the idea of handing over another friend (or who he thought was a friend) made him ultimately sick. He subconsciously clung to Cartman, orbiting him like a weak satellite, surveying the vacant halls for any signs of life.

"Jee I hope he's okay..." The blond said quietly, "Though that was a real rotten thing for 'im to do..."

"Butters, shut up," Eric grumbled, peeking through the window of a darkened ex-art room, "Poor boy does this shit all the time."

"W-w-well then why are we huntin' 'im d-down?" Butters stammered, glancing over Cartman's shoulder. The whole thing sounded like a load of dirty work to Butters, and he didn't handle dirty work well.

"Because he was an overly cocky dick about it, retard," The annoyance in the brunet's voice raised, feeling like a bothered teacher having to repeat the simplest lesson to the world's stupidest child, "Kinny ended up fucking everyone's mouths about it and now he's getting a foot up his ass."_Dick-headed screw up..._

Best friend or not, Kenny had to learn to play the game /right/; Cartman didn't fix others mistakes.

"B-but that sounds a lil' harsh..." The blond muttered, voice trembling, fading as he spoke.  
"It doesn't matter if it's harsh or not either way I want my goddamn money!" _Fucking retarded cockmaster giving half now and half later..._

"O-okay..." He bit his lip, inching closer to the fat boy.

Cartman frowned, displeased at the invasion of personal space.

_God if he does that ONE MORE FUCKING TIME..._

The rage built up, ever soft whimper and gulp pushing him closer to the edge. Normally he tolerated his bothersome pet, putting up with his blatant mousiness, brazen obliviousness, and outright stupidity. But he caught on that the rules of the day changed, every little thing getting on his nerves. That tide of control retracted, leaving his temper bare, no tolerance to balance. And frankly, losing control was no big deal to him; it never was.

So what was one more slip to him?

_Besides it's only Butters..._

Butters' ears perked, detecting rushed footsteps headed for them down one of the other hallways. He jumped, holding his hands over his mouth as an instant reaction to the noise. Easy to scare and already on his toes, he didn't want to take any chances. He nearly pulled a Scooby-Doo and leapt into Cartman's arms for safety, but clinging to his belly was good enough.

"Oh Gees..." He piped, the hairs on his back rising as he hugged the brunet's marshmallow stomach tightly.

Cartman was no teddy bear though; he was an angry ferocious _BEAR_. Bears and cuddling didn't mix well.

"Get the fuck off me!" He growled, rooting his fingers in the crop of yellow hair. Butters whined, feeling the individual strands plucking from his head as Cartman clutched it tighter. With a forceful shove, he ripped the boy off him, tossing him down to the ground.

_BUMPF!_

"Ow..." Butters moaned, seated on his bum. He rubbed his head, wincing at the sensitive parts of his scalp, sniffling a few times. Pain was an old friend, Butters used to beatings from both classmates and parents, but he still felt like crying afterwards. Big boys didn't cry, he learned that over the years, so he sucked it up whenever the urge flared. However, he did a poor job of it, eyes watering as the pain surged through him.

Cartman glowered down at the blond, fairly indifferent to his snivelling. The reddish gleam returned to the glassy brown eyes, feeding off the pain. Others' pain always brought him twisted joy; and today he needed more than a few pick-ups. Butters happened to be the common victim, not that Cartman minded.

Unknowingly, a smile curled on his lips. The sniffles, the whines, the failing restraint to conceal the pain... All of it _delighted_ him.

Butters took a deep breath, blinking away the welling tears, massaging his head. The hurt subsided as he took even breaths, returning to normal as though nothing happened. It was easy for him to bounce from tears back into a beaming boy.

"I'm sorry, Eric," He said softly, slowly getting to his feet, brushing off his pants while he was still bent over.

Cartman's eyes flickered from his feet to Butters' head. From that angle, one kick would nail him right in the crown. If it was Kyle, he'd jump on the opportunity and aim to maim. But Butters did Butters need to be his punching bag today?

Better question, _why think twice on the matter_?

Ever so slowly, he raised his leg, bending it back, gaining momentum and power. Discretion blurred, eroding away. Duress instructed him to do it already, cave to the lightning flash urge. For all he knew, Cartman was just listening to his temper a bit more than usual.

_Fucking faggot always pissin' me off..._

Butters whipped his head to glance down the hall, oblivious to Cartman's impending kick. The owner of the footsteps appeared, walking down the hall, head held low.

"Millie!" Butters called, springing to his feet.

Cartman shuddered, stomping his foot on the ground. A grating grunt coughed out of his throat, anger momentarily disappearing, leaving him in to his usual sour, disgruntled attitude. Brown overpowered red, back to the natural state.

Millie looked up, eyes wide when she saw the two boys. _Just my luck, I run into those two friends o' his..._

Butters rushed over to the girl, already over the brief beating, focused again on his detective work.

"Millie, have ya seen Kenny?" He asked quickly, organs knotting again. The guilt just wouldn't go away.

"K-Ken...?" Millie stopped, pressing her lips together in a fine line. Multiple feelings flashed in her eyes—regret, hatred, shame, fury—but neither Butters nor Cartman picked up on it.

"Yeah. Poor boy mysteriously disappeared," Cartman said bitterly, rolling his eyes as he strolled to Butters' side, joining in the interrogation, "Seen 'im?"

"Seen 'im..." Millie muttered, biting her lip, eyes narrowing. She dug her nails into her palms, hands shaking.

"Yeah, ya know, walkin' around or somethin' like that," Butters said, "We're lookin' for 'im so...well...um..." He trailed off, gaze falling, letting Cartman finish his sentence.

The brunet sighed, rolling his eyes at the blond, "We're looking for him since stupid-ass Stoley wants his head. Just tell us if you've seen the shithead and we'll leave ya alone."

"Inerestin' way of talkin' 'bout a so-called friend..." Millie murmured, trailing off without giving an answer.

Butters felt another pang of guilt inside him, scratching the back of his head. _Why'd I agree to this I just feel rotten...I just wanted to hang out with Eric more and help people...D'oh now I'm feeling hungry again...And sick..._

"Mmmm..." He swallowed some saliva down hard, the spit plopping into his emptying stomach.

Cartman scoffed, "Just tell us where he went, ya dumb bitch. It's easy to tell you know something." He wrinkled his nose, face warping into a scowl. Obviously Millie didn't know how friendship worked.

"I don't know where he is now and I ain't one for wantin' to see 'im again!" Millie spat, stomping her foot on the floor, "'Kay?"

Cartman furrowed his brow, insulted by her attitude. Red flared in his eyes, fury flaming again.  
"Listen, bitch," He snapped, "Tell us where the fuck you saw him and we'll leave you alone." He gritted his teeth, glare intensifying.

Butters gave Eric a frightened look, shrinking where he stood. The venom sprayed from the brunet's mouth, burning like acid at the touch.

Millie, undaunted by Cartman's rough behaviour, ground her teeth, lifting a hand and pointing at the boy.

"Listen, bastard, n' listen good!" She rasped, "I ain't up for talkin' and you twos can find Ken yaselves for all I care! Just leave me be!" She shoved Butters out of her way, letting him bang against the lockers as she started storming off.

"Not so fast!" Cartman growled, snatching her thin wrist, locking his hand around it, "You didn't answer our question."

Millie glowered back at him, face reddening with rage.

"Oh Jesus..." The blond squeaked, "D-don't fight, guys! I-I-it'll be okay!"

"Shut up, Butters," They both shouted, Millie trying to tear her hand away as Cartman tightened his grip.

The blond pursed his lips, shivering as his eyes flickered back and forth, witnessing a glare-off of the ages.

Millie's fierce stare, on a normal boy, would slice him into tiny pieces with a master's precision; but she had no effect on Cartman. His eyes bore into hers, red flames singing her soul. The confidence inside her faded, her eyes dimming as his glowed brighter. That kind of fury she saw terrified her, spine tingling as though she was gazing into the eyes of an animal. Maybe even a demon.

She paled, rolling her lips into her mouth, eyes widening. Cartman smirked, taking that as a sign of sweet victory.

"So...?" He raised a brow, hints of smugness dripping off his sentence.

Millie fixed her gaze on the floor, clenching her captive hand into a fist.

"Left 'im in the Art History room..." She said darkly, "Dunno if he stuck 'round or not, but there's ya best bet."

The brunet snickered to himself, relaxing his grip on the girl.

Once the clasp around her was loose enough, Millie ripped her arm from Cartman, tentatively rubbing her wrist.

"If ya see the turd... Slap 'im for me..." She added, turning and walking off, going at the same sloth pace as before, every footstep echoing. Eventually, she ducked down another hall, vanishing from view.

Cartman let out a content sigh, belly jiggling as he absorbed the little bit of glory.  
"Stupid bitch," He said beneath his breath.

"Oh Gees..." Butters yipped, inching towards Eric again, "Slap 'im...? Gosh, why'd she wanna have us do that...?"

"I honestly don't give a shit, but I think I know why," He cringed, flicking his tongue out like a lizard. _Christ, Kinny..._

"You don't mean..." Butters stopped himself, flushing bright red. Puberty never hit him, at least not in the sexual hormonal sense, Butters still finding things like sex a huge taboo and something to be flustered over.

Cartman rolled his eyes with a snort, "Grow up, pansy."

"S-sorry," Butters shook his head, getting those filthy notions out of his mind as he glued himself to the brunet's side.

"Stop breathing on me," Cartman pushed him aside, trotting off towards the Art History room, "We've got less than five minutes to find that asshole so I can get my goddamn money."

"Aren't we kinda sellin' 'im out though..." He twiddled his thumbs. A quiet groan came from his stomach, whining that he needed more snacks. _Oh_ _hamburgers... No wonder I feel sick..._

"BUTTERS!" That was all it took, one call from the angry master and the puppy obeyed.

"C-coming!" Butters scrambled after him, remaining at a close distance, back to satellite position.

Eric's anger settled, the urges curling back up in a cave and slumbering, only to awaken again when some other annoyance poked it with a stick. Meanwhile, Butters belly scrunched, hunger level rising rapidly. As that urge grew, he tried shuffling closer to Cartman, craving his companionship as much as the food.

Assuming the impulses would pass; neither of them mentioned it, walking the rest of the way in silence, Butters receiving the occasional shove along the way.

They couldn't comprehend the true source of their drives.

* * *

"Mhmm...Yeah...Uhuh..." Mr. Mackey muttered, pawing through his immense stacks of old paper work and vanilla folders in search of Wendy's file, "No...Hmmm..."

Wendy, meanwhile, sat in the comfy chair in front of the large wooden desk, waiting quietly for the session to begin. The voices hushed, barely audible to the poor girl, content with the previous scare. Why the torturous voices decided to be considerate and give her a break, she hadn't the slightest idea. But she was perfectly happy not knowing as long as that meant at least five minutes of thinking semi-clearly.

_Pull yourself together..._ She urged herself, the last shred of optimism speaking up before being gagged and hidden away by the evil rat infesting her mind, _Strange as the story may be Mr. Mackey's at least going to listen...? Just try to get through this, Dammit you've been through worse! It's just like beating breast cancer! Combat it head on! Beat the little shit! _

Wendy tried with all her heart to buy into it, to let her inner self pep talk her out of it, but for once it wasn't working. The speech was outdated. She didn't know what she was dealing with. What if that only made things _worse_?

She always supported killing the problem, but this one seemed a lot more complex than beating up a bully or protesting against animal cruelty or global warming. This was _in her head_. _Inside her._

How can she kill it when it's _in_ her?

Or when it _stares back at her_ whenever she stares in the mirror?

Whatever was in that reflection—whenever it showed itself—Wendy had the grim doubt that she couldn't face it by herself. And that terrified her most of all.

"Aha!" Mr. Mackey pulled out the ebon's file, peeking through a few of the papers inside as he sat back in his office chair, "Here's your file...so I can write things down for the record, mkay."

"Hmm?" Wendy blinked, clearing her throat. She cleared her thoughts, ignoring the dull buzz of moans. Thankfully they were low enough _to_ ignore.

"Mkay," Mr. Mackey grabbed a pen, clicking the ballpoint out, "Let's get this, mmm, started, mkay."

"Right..." She nodded, taking a deep breath, "W-well...I've just been feeling weird all day. I-I just woke up like that, I guess..." She shook her head, scolding herself for speaking so distantly. _Together, together, stay together!_

"Mkay," Mr. Mackey nodded, scrawling down a few notes on a pad, "W-weird how?"

"Um..." She hesitated, sifting through the multiple oddities, wanting to pull out the most extreme of the normal ones, "Well, I've had a few issues with some friends of my boyfriend's..." The choice came out of her mind without a final decision being made; a slip of the tongue letting out one of what she thought was a bit more on the insignificant side (at least compared to her teetering mental state). She coughed, covering her mouth.

"Ah, are you and Stan having trouble again?" Mr. Mackey, leaned on his desk, squinting through his glasses at the girl, "He hanging out with Kyle and Kenny and Eric more than he does with you?"

She kept silent, letting a long silence engulf the room. The thoughts of Stan hanging out with them more than her taunted her, provoking the voices, making them go from a slight ignorable buzz to a displeased chatter, escalating as the horrid idea festered in her brain. That tick of jealousy kicked in, poking at her.

_...They have to GO..._

"Uh...W-Wendy?" Mr. Mackey asked.

"Yes," She said, twitching, "Kyle and Kenny especially. Though they both seem to be ignoring that Stan's not in very good condition today and refuse to let me talk to him."

Suddenly, something _clicked_.

All her senses that seemed lost in the distance far behind her reappeared, snapping right back into place. They weren't exactly the same as they normally were, but that didn't matter to her. They were there; or something reassuring was, at least.

Her confident, firm tone returned, making her sound entirely sure of what she was talking about (or more lying about). Although she said very little, each word had a unique punch to it, reinforcing its effect, turning from a white lie to an indisputable fact. Wendy had a talent of warping words to suit her cause. As a debater and class officer, that was always a good quality to have. And as a girl in need of pulling a few strings, she could do things from the inside.

That cancelled out all the moans and cries, giving her a sudden, unbefitting sense of closure. At least for the now, she could do something without a chorus of misery belting out all it had in her mind. Now she could think _correctly _and _calmly_. And the fact that she could gave her an unmistakable yet incongruous ray of glee.

As the faux peace washed over her, the green in her eyes returned, slowly coming to light. The nearly blind Mr. Mackey didn't notice any change—nor would he really be shocked that a girl with _hazel_ eyes had a pinch of green to the irises—and neither did Wendy. If anything, she was just thanking herself for turning to the old man in the first place.

_I'm starting to feel better already...Maybe that was all that was it... It was just that... And the rest was my imagination or something..._

_...Imagination roaming, covering up the truth, but bliss is bliss and for now all to focus on is them, getting rid of them, them who do your wrong and them who have what you deserve..._

She stood up abruptly, thinking it best not to waste anymore time dallying in a place she didn't have to be. No, why would she? She felt better; she might as well thank the man and leave. All she had to do was tell someone what was bothering her; and she did. Problem solved.

"Thank you, Mr. Mackey," She said surely, turning towards the door, "I think that's all I had to say." Before he could sneak in another work, Wendy paraded to the door, abandoning the bumbling councillor.

Without her noticing, a smile peeked on her lips as she travelled down the hallway.

The rat burrowed deep enough, and now had a _welcome_ home.

* * *

Stan and Kyle ambled down the deserted hallway, course set on their next class. Stan leaned more on the side of the sleepy, wavering in and out of consciousness as he walked, eyelids turning from flesh to lead. He didn't care much when Kyle suggested they head to class early, nor was he curious as to why the redhead wanted to leave so quickly.

Kyle walked more surely, a certain stride to his step, occasionally keeping the hobbling ebon on the right track rather than crashing into the wall of lockers.

They had to leave the lunchroom, Kyle finding himself too much in the limelight (and not how he would've liked). Every time he looked away from Stan's half-lidded murky eyes, he'd meet the awkward gaze of a cluster of students nearby. They'd look away immediately, bursting into mutters, circulating something through the table. After suffering at the hands of rumours countless times, Kyle was even more sceptic of them. His senses heightened, the normal bother of obvious gossip about him bumping to the next level, past mere suspicion, and into high alert defence.

_**They're spreading lies again... Nothing better to do than smirch my name... It's because I'm BETTER than them...**_

The distinction between Kyle and the other voice blurred, whether because they both felt concern towards the rumours or because the voice embedded itself deep enough to elude the redhead's notice.

_**Better than me, that's a laugh! HA! Most of them can't even do simple multiplication let alone anything above basic algebra! They don't know carbon dioxide from carbon monoxide! They don't know your from you're! The Renaissance may as well have been an episode of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles! For fuck's sake do they always need to find creative ways to make me look bad? Granted they do a shitty job outside physical and light verbal abuse. Honestly they should be looking up and fawning over the name Kyle Broflovski...**_

"K-Kyle..." Stan muttered, swooning as he stopped, gripping one of the locks for support, "Slow down..."

Kyle stopped, taking a moment to push back his thoughts. He then turned around, noticing a considerable distance between him and the ebon. While his train of thought furiously trucked forward, his pace quickened as well, abandoning Stan and leaving him to trail behind.

_Oh..._

"Sorry," Kyle apologised lowly, taking swift steps to return to Stan's side, "I...I guess I'm just in a rush today..." He blinked, pushing the snide thoughts back, hiding them in the depths of his mind to be looked upon later.

Stan grunted, watching the redhead return to him. Kyle'd been distant-a few times he hadn't even been much of Kyle, as he noted-which constantly bothered him, the worry itching in the back of his worn brain. He cared, he really did, but there was no way he could put forth enough energy to show it. If he could, Kyle might realise something was wrong and do something about it rather than brushing it off so easily (another thing that, for Kyle, was very unusual and even more upsetting to the ebon).

Then again, Kyle could always go off on a tangent, lecture him, and reaffirm that his logic was in fact the right one. The Jew could be stubborn at times, but the stubborn attitude at least tipped him off to his friends' disquieting views towards him.

He closed and opened his eyes; half hoping to see the world differently, clearly, when he reopened them. The entire day surrounded itself with queer happenings and cryptic codes Stan was sure meant something more than just a bad day.

He knew there was more. Kenny knew there was more. Hell, even Kyle knew there was more, whether he'd say so or not. But just what it was; what it was remained the well-hidden crux of this devious plot.

Stan, from what he could judge, was the one most aware of their situation. Kenny showed signs of getting in on it, but whenever the blond crossed his mind, he thought Kenny would just lead them colder.

_It's just like that stupid hotter-colder game..._

Stan knew just how hot things could get-that dream was pretty balmy after all-and Kenny's approach, from the little he was capable of gathering, leaned towards the cooler half of the spectrum, farther from the actual cause. He concerned himself with individual causes, using his street logic to decode things, either coming to no avail or simply meandering off course. Stan didn't think he was much closer than Kenny-not that he knew much of the blond's strategy-but he'd seen things that cast a different and far more striking light on him.

That light came in that dream.

_That goddamn, motherfucking nightmare that threw him straight into hell. _

As outlandish as the idea sounded, Stan felt like that trip to the snake put brought him closer to the situation than the others. The notion gave him a vague curiosity, wondering if it implied any sort of power of some sort. With that, the weight rested on his shoulders, telling him that this required a great responsibility that the others either couldn't handle or would abuse.

They were all frivolous thoughts, in their own way, the strong desire to sleep and test out his possible ability to use dreams as his informational source rising, dominating his mind, sense waning.

_It'd be just like Inception or something...Yeah...But... Fuck, this sounds retarded... I guess I really am sleep deprived... sleep deprived... sleep depr... sleep... sleep... sleeeeeeep..._

"STAN!"

"Huh?" Stan surged up, eyes fluttering. His hand banged against the metal, clatters of the lock and his skin bopping the door of the hollow locker filling the room. His vision sharpened, going from blurs of colour back to finely defined scenery, his eyes staring into a set of emeralds.

The bright sheen to the green stabbed Stan with a kitchen knife, concern cutting him while displeasure twisted the blade in the wound. Obviously he was worried, but the worry seemed superficial to Stan. The emeralds were far too bright, practically glittering, something they'd never do if the redhead was genuinely perturbed over another. The bright green had an almost metallic glaze to it, an unnatural and cold gleam that screamed apathy, his other emotions backed by something more personal.

Whatever was personal, Kyle found to be far more important than Stan.

Stan's jaded eyes narrowed, squinting into the harsh gaze. Faintly-like a ghostly presence-Stan made out a ring around his pupil, discoloured from the black. The shade partially blended with the emerald, the peculiar shade attempting to act as a chameleon, yet there was a distinct plum tinge to the nearly optical black.

_Why the fuck is there purple...? Or am I just... tired...?_

"Are you going to stare into my eyes all day or talk to me, Stan?" Kyle said, making a fish face, "I get enough of that from Kenny and I'm seriously not in the mood."

"Huhwha?" Stan parked up a bit, forcing his eyelids as high as they could go. He slammed his foot on the floor, using the sound to kick him further into the realm of the conscious. His actions still didn't please Kyle.

"I really think you should go home and rest," He said, tone more demanding than caring, "You've zoned out on me more times than I can count."

"I'm fine, dude," Stan mumbled, shaking his head as quickly as he could, fidgeting to prove he was awake. In his efforts, he accidently let a thought slip from his lips; "You're the one having problems..."

"_What?_" Kyle stepped back, face distorting to a look of shock, displeasure, and outrage. After a vow restating their forever friendship, Stan really said that? Bickering was part of friendship-a healthy bit of teasing and joking always meant things were going well-but if being best friends was anything like marriage, Kyle would be tempted to file a divorce.

"...Fuck..." Stan cursed, snapping his head to fix his gaze on the floor.

_Shit now I'm gonna unleash the Kraken..._

Kyle's mouth hung open, so many responses-some more obscene than others-for him to choose from screaming at the ebon.

_**Best friend or not NO ONE FUCKING treats ME like that...**_

_"GUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUYS!"_

Kyle and Stan both snapped their heads, staring down the hallway to see who'd broken the atmosphere of friction.

Running down the hallway with the quickness of a tiger was Kenny, waving his arms frantically to get his friends' attention. His skin glistened, a thin layer of sweat accumulated on his skin. Rather than his usual shit-faced grin, he clenched his teeth, mouth stretched in a strained grimace. His long legs gave him an edge, having a handsome lead on Kevin. However, he could only sprint for so long before his motors gave; and he was nearing that point.

"Kenny?" They said in unison.

"HELP!" Kenny yelled, breathless, gesturing madly behind him.

Coming up around the corner was Kevin Stoley in a furious frenzy. Even from afar, Stan and Kyle knew that Kenny'd stuck his dick in the wrong hole and landed himself in deep shit. And, once again, Stan and Kyle would have to save the day.

"Shit," Kyle looked around, scanning the area in hopes of finding something useful. A penny, old gum, a napkin, _anything _would do! Testing his creative on-the-spot thinking would work a lot better if he had resources available.

Stan simply blinked, the engine in his brain breaking down. If Kenny needed a man to stand around as a dead weight, Stan was prepared. Other than that, Stan was useless.

Kenny kicked his feet, pushing into overdrive, burning out his last reserves rushing up to Kyle and Stan. With the speed burst, he reached out for the boys. As he passed, he latched his hands onto them, clutching Stan's sleeve in one hand and Kyle's wrist in the other. Before the other two (or more Kyle) could protest, Kenny dragged them with him, daring not to leave his two best-not to mention last-lines of defence behind.

"HEY!" Kyle shouted, stumbling as he forced himself from inert to a sprint.

"AGH!" Stan acted as an anchor, nearly tripping on his own feet several times.

"Sup, guys?" Kenny laughed hoarsely, glancing between them.

"You just had to go there and now you're dragging us into it, didn't you?" Kyle grumbled, pace quickening to a brisk dash.

"United we stand, divided we fall?" Kenny shrugged, "Ain't that what Roosevelt said?"

"That was a _Revolutionary War _quote, dumbass!" Kyle barked.

"Whatever, Kev's still pissed," Kenny glanced back, shuddering when he met the enraged gaze of Kevin's Mr. Hyde side.

"You brought this on yourself," Kyle grudgingly pointed out.

"Lecture me latter, Mama Kylie, this ain't the time," He rolled his eyes.

Kyle growled.

Stan, as he trailed in the rear of their linked line, let his head loll down, resting his chin on his chest. All the energy needed so suddenly knocked everything out of him, his will to stay up quickly rushing out of him as he stumbled. With his free hand he groped the lockers, grabbing onto locks only for them to slip from between his fingers.

But then his fingers hooked around a plastic lever. He didn't know what it was at first, but as they passed and his grip loosened, the lever moved down. It only took a few seconds for everyone to know what that lever was.

_EEEEEEEEEH! EEEEEEEEEEEEH! EEEEEEEEEEEEEH! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEH!_

Kevin, Kenny, Kyle, and Stan all skidded to a stop, staring at the ceiling. A bright silver light on the wall flashed, the drone of the fire alarm buzzer drowning out all other noise.

"BRILLIANT STANNY!" Kenny cheered, panting.

"STAN!" Kyle shouted.

"What...?" Stan looked at his hand, and then at the pulled lever.

Kevin stood next to the lever, blinking wildly, madness draining from his eyes. Kenny, seeing that the nerd was in a daze, started running again, leading the boys as far away as possible.

"WHERE ARE WE-?" Kyle tried to shout over the buzzing.

"AWAY FROM HERE!" Kenny silenced him, hauling Stan and Kyle with him as they escaped out the emergency door at the end of the hall.

The students in the classrooms all rushed out of their rooms, forming a mob leaving the building.

All but Kevin, who simply stood there, panting, calming down. With his attention elsewhere, one of the stricter teachers lurking the halls snuck up on him, grabbing his shoulder and giving him a stern 'You're in deep trouble, mister' look.

It didn't matter to the kids who pulled the alarm; the day was over early.

And for all they cared, it just meant it was closer to the end.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys look who updated. Lol. I'm sorry it took so long, I've had school and life and...yeah xD Forgive me guys, I've been working with this story and I love it, but I've been a busy gal lately.**

**So here we have our long awaited update. It's shorter than I hoped, but I'm saving more of the good stuff for next chapter. School's out and now we can have fun at home, yeah? Next chapter will zone in on everyone more individually and add more background, not to mention more sin. Again sorry this is shorter, I swear I'll make up for it.**

**In other news, I have an announcement; FANART! Actually, more than just fanart, we're talking about a fan DOUJINSHI! Yes of THIS STORY! The fabulous GerAmAReIA offered and has already made the cover! There's a link on my page to it and I'll be adding more as she continues. You should all totally check it out since she's doing a brilliant job. I can't even express my gratitude in words ;A;**

**Anyway, thank you so very much for reading! I'd really really love it if you'd review, too. Words from my readers motivate me more (I usually work on the next chapter right after posting, it's staying focused on it that's difficult) and I don't want to put a lot into a story not as many people enjoy. I like this story and knowing that you do to makes me work harder AND makes me work things around my writing schedule more. I'm sorry, I'm pushy, but I treasure all your words and they keep me going like a hamster on a wheel ;;A;;**

**Okay, I've whined, I've apologised, I've thanked you all; so best I shut up now. I'm already starting with the next chapter which I'm hoping will set a new and better standard compared to the others, and I hope to finish that soon. Much sooner than this chapter ended up getting done in. Thanks again! Please leave a review! And just wait around for the next chapter! It's coming and the story's rolling, just slowly. Till next time! :D ~CQO**


	9. Heading Home

The boys slowed down as they reached the edge of the track area, tracks left in the layer of white snow. The trio stood, panting, catching their breath as other students evacuated the school. Half of them didn't even care if there was a real fire or not (though the school burning down would be a pretty nice excuse for a long weekend), the teens simply scattering, clustering into their friend groups, and loitering in the yard.

Kenny released his hold on the other two, placing his hands on his bent knees as he inhaled the crisp wintry air, the temperature burning his lungs and icing over the sweat on his skin. His muscles felt fatigued, running more in that chase through the halls than his entire P.E. career. But there was always that one delightful thought that kept him from yelling about his physical pain; _he got away from Kevin_.

Kyle huffed, taking in heavy even breathes, chest rising and falling. His wrist hurt from the tight grip the blond had on him, but other than that Kyle had nothing to complain about. Nothing but how Kenny's sex drive steered him into another scrap he barely got out of without a firm ass-kicking. He looked at the blond from under his lashes, ready to yell at him once he could breath normally again.

Stan, the most worn of them all, nearly plopped on the ground like a sack of potatoes. He only stayed standing because his feet rooted in the snow, soles of his boots set in the earth. The ebon watched the wispy cloud of breath dance in front of his face, mesmerised by the translucent smoke. All that happened was a blur, the events playing out at twice the normal speed, occurring like a quick action sequence that lasted a blink of an eye. The running also jumbled his thoughts, his half complete jigsaw puzzle thrown on the ground and broken, leaving him to start all over again.

_Fuck... _He thought.

Kenny glanced over his shoulder, getting a glimpse of the crowds forming around the building. He couldn't see a sign of Stoley or any administrators bent on busting them; they were in the clear.

"Hehe," He smiled, straightening up as he looked back at his friends, "Good work team, yeah?"

Kyle snapped his head up, gritting his teeth as he stared at Kenny's smiling face.

"Are you ever going to learn to stay out of trouble?" The redhead muttered sourly.

"Ah, Ky, you know Trouble's my middle name," Kenny winked, tone still playful to disarm Kyle's more venomous edge.

"Ugh," He scoffed, rolling his eyes and staring down at the snow. There were no words that could properly combat Kenny's..._Kenniness_. Kyle didn't seem to have a word in his vocabulary or know a word in any dictionary to truly describe it. That fact both annoyed him and, to a lesser extent, compelled him at times.

"What did you-," Stan yawned, turning to face Kenny, "Do...?"

"Stoley's got his panties in a bunch because I had a little fling with his sis and proceeded to be a cocky douche and broadcast it... Jesus where have you been?" Kenny cocked his head to the side, "I mean, I know you're tired as fuck but, god man, you are OUT of it."

"Right...Oh..." Stan blinked, wishing he could just have that goddamn coffee kick in already and keep him up. Lord knew that sleep wasn't as nice of an option as it seemed.

"Stan, go home and go to bed," Kyle instructed, gazing into Stan's eyes, ignoring the lighter, milkier tone to the blue, "Like, right fucking now."

"No, I'm fine," He said, speaking louder. He reached up and squeezed the bridge of his nose, a headache of both aggravation and sleep deprivation forming, stabbing at his head. Whatever he did, he had to do something that would, at very least, bring them all to a form of peace.

_The last thing I'm doing with shit like this going on is having another fucking nightmare..._

"Oh for God's sake, will you just listen to us?" Kyle snapped, purple sheen returning to his eyes, urges to grab Stan and shake the defiance out of him rising.

"Kyle," Stan pinched the bone harder. He wasn't sure how to reply. He verged on outright shouting at the redhead, blowing up in a poor effort to express his feelings. Stan knew better, though, but the better option of explaining to Kyle that things weren't alright concealed itself, hiding away to feign non-existence. Thus, he had no rebuttal, the boy's name hanging in the air without an argument accompanying it.

"Don't 'Kyle' me," He said, seizing the opportunity to shred Stan's slimmer chances of convincing him anything other than what Kyle knew to be true, "I know you need rest and there's no dispute about it. So get your ass home before I fucking drag you."

"No!" Stan yelled, swaying where he stood.

"Both of ya, calm your shit already!" Kenny shouted, raising his voice above them both.

Stan and Kyle turned, staring at the blond, Stan in a daze, Kyle in a developing frenzy.

Kenny looked between the two, biting his lip. The dynamic duo quarrelling nonstop off-set him even more, as did the odd muskiness of Stan's milky eyes and the peculiar purple of Kyle's. Bad vibes surrounded them, the negativity in the air as thick as hybrid smug.

"I'm sick of bein' the moderator for everyone's fights today, okay?" He said, letting out a sigh. He grasped his hood, flipping it up to cover his head loosely, "And you two of all people shouldn't be screeching at each other this much. I'm surprised this ain't like when we found that guy from 1996!"

Stan coughed, shoving his hands into his coat pockets and lowering his gaze. The worst part was that he _agreed _with Kenny; he just had trouble showing it.

_Then again Kyle's being pretty fucking difficult..._

Kyle crossed his arms, hugging his chest as a gust of harsh wind blew against them. Stan's denseness and Kenny's habit to intercede frustrated him, neither of them listening or understanding a word he said. He was speaking plain English, so was there something in there they just could not _comprehend_?

_Both of them are acting like...__**idiots**__..._

"Well..." Kenny shifted, the argument brought to a definite standstill, "Now that I've pissed ya both off, mind cooperating?"

"Shut up," Kyle muttered.

"That's my Jew," The blond looked over to Stan, "Now Stan I want ya to get your ass home and sleep right-"

"_STAN!_"

Out of the blue, Wendy emerged from the crowds, bulleting towards her boyfriend, mood magically lifted. Her sudden happiness sharply contrasted with Kenny and Kyle's picture of her earlier, a smile on her face adding a suspicious brightness. Perhaps it was a miracle mood-swing that'd knocked her out of her dark swirl of despair, or perhaps there was something more. Kenny and Kyle leaned towards the latter.

Stan turned to her slowly, only fully registering her presence when the girl wrapped her arms around him, squeezing his arms to his sides. She clung, gluing to him as she did before, but more as a happy greeting rather than a form of distress. The always independent Wendy Testaburger decided that a little public display of affection wasn't the ultimate sign of female submission after all.

Kenny and Kyle took a few steps back, both of them glancing between the couple and one another. A hug out of nowhere was more of Bebe's thing than Wendy's; not to mention how cheery she seemed. Her lips curved in a relaxed smile, but with an off curl to the corners. Rather than shivering and quivering, she held Stan with an unexpected firmness, not a tremor going through her. Then there were her eyes, which shined like a cat that'd just caught the canary, a minty shade to the irises.

"Wendy..." Stan said, looking down to see the crown of her head, "You're here..."

"And better," Kenny added. Kyle elbowed the blond, telling him to hold his tongue next time.

Wendy shot a glare at the other two, narrowing her eyes, turning from a content housecat to a fierce lioness in two seconds flat. Both the look and the abrupt change chilled the two orange-clad boys, Kenny and Kyle freezing into ice sculptures.

"Ahem," She looked up at Stan, turning back into a lovable kitten, "I talked to Mr. Mackey before, so I think I'm all sorted out for the rest of the day...though I still suppose I should talk to you, too."

"Oh yeah..."_ Almost forgot about that..._. "Well I guess I have nothing else to do unless..." He glanced over at the redhead and the blond.

The other two looked at one another, silently seeking confirmation for what they'd say. Neither of them were keen on Stan running off with Wendy-Kyle especially-but they'd need to phrase it perfectly as not to cause another eruption of female fury. With a stern nod, they both looked back at Stan, mouths open to voice their complaints.

However, rather than just a set of milky blue eyes meeting their gazes, Wendy stared at them as well, the metallic emerald cutting them like a gemstone sword. She managed to silence them both with her stare, threatening to unleash the lioness' ire if they dared speak.

Kenny shut his mouth immediately, locking his jaw in place, words of protest still sitting on his tongue. Kyle, meanwhile, let his mouth hang open, tongue retracting to his throat, wanting it to snap back and spit out his poisonous words to startle off the raven-haired girl. The words, in the long run, would end up useless and only unintentionally goad Stan into leaving with her, causing Kyle's speechlessness.

Wendy raised an eyebrow, mutely encouraging them to reply to Stan _correctly_. The cat really did have their tongues.

"Nah, bro, attend to your woman," Kenny said, forcing a simper, "Ky and I'll just chill without ya. Right?" He glanced back at the redhead.

He hesitated, eyes flickering between each other three before letting out a sigh, "Yeah, go on..." The response came out as painlessly as teeth being pulled without novocaine.

"See? We can reschedule our threesome for later, you go on with your lady, Stanny," Kenny grinned. His stupid remarks earned him another glower from the new countess of chagrin.

Stan nodded, gazing back at Wendy. Once she felt the ebon's eyes back on her (where they rightfully belonged, in her opinion), she looked back up at him, smiling innocently, kittenish angel side overshadowing her true intensions.

"We can walk over to Stark's, how about that?" She proposed, unlatching herself from his torso. As he thought it over, Wendy slipped a hand into Stan's pocket, fishing out his hand to hold tightly.

"But Stark's is really far away..." He muttered, just the thought of all that walking exhausting him.

"He should go home, Wendy," Kyle said loudly.

All eyes went to the Semite, Wendy angered, Kenny shocked, and Stan in a state of half-cluelessness.

"He's a mess, and if the son of a bitch won't listen to us then maybe you can convince him otherwise," He continued, sounding as-a-matter-of-factly, "You do want him to _get better_ and_ be okay_, don't you?"

That caught Wendy off guard; and that's what got to her. As much as she wanted to ignore the attention thief, as she so deemed him, she had to admit that he had a valid point. Stan's needs came to the front, and Stan needed to go home and rest.

_...But I'll be the one to do that, I'm the only one who can help him...I'm going to do the best job and no one can tell me otherwise..._

"...Right," She said through gritted teeth, tugging lightly on Stan's arm, "I'll just walk you home," Already the girl began to lead him towards the road.

"I...okay..." Stan gave in quickly, seeing it best to save his energy for thought rather than wasting it on futile causes that, in the end, would lose anyway, "Bye guys..." He mumbled, letting his girlfriend drag him along. He stole one more look at his friends before letting his head roll over his shoulder and fix straight ahead.

_Maybe without Kyle yelling at me I'll be able to focus... Or at least by myself some time to figure out how Wendy is..._

Kyle and Kenny watched as the dishevelled dark-haired couple shrunk as they walked into the distance, waiting until they reached the concrete before turning their attention elsewhere.

Kyle quickly looked to his feet, kicking the snow as he muttered incoherent garble under his breath. He scarcely knew what was coming out of his mouth, let alone noticing when his set language switched to Yiddish, but none of it mattered. Today, somehow, Stan managed to really wind him up. The scariest part was he didn't know entirely why.

Kenny focused on Kyle, the mystery of his queer behaviour still unsolved. Out of everyone, he was most concerned about the redhead, Kyle experiencing more violent and extreme episodes than anybody (to his knowledge at least). He caught bits and pieces of Kyle's mumbles, not understanding a word of speech but understanding the emotions mixed in. He wasn't happy, and for once his Super Best Friend was making things worse instead of better. Not the first time such a phenomenon occurred, but having something like that happen was pretty rare. Loyal and true, though, Kenny wasn't afraid to step in. Even if he stayed in the background, he was always there for Kyle—and everyone else too. His main focus, though, was to tend to the Jew.

"Ky," He placed a hand on the redhead's shoulder.

His head snapped up, pursing his lips. His face went to stone, chiselled out of marble with emeralds and amethysts embedded in the eye sockets of the statue. He at least tried to make himself void of emotion, but a look deep into his pupils said otherwise.

Swirling in the darkness he saw a battle. Nothing like _300_ or anything with guts and gore; but a mental battle. A battle for dominance, a battle for control. The two sides struggled, one the normal Kyle, and the other whoever or whatever had been causing his woe. The fighting started recently, both parties fairly fresh as they fought, but already the enemy had the upper-hand. Kyle still held, he was still there, but for some reason it seemed the enemy wanted him to last. Kyle's resistance prolonged the fighting just to the enemy's liking, occupying its time with the fun of making petty jabs and bad gags from Loony Tunes. It needed resistance; Kyle giving in would be too easy.

_And Kyle doesn't give in... _

"Kenny."

He blinked, shaking his head, zooming out to see Kyle's entire face.

The redhead's lips curved down into a tight frown, both brows raised inquisitively.

"Can you stop doing that?" The Jew went on, shrugging off Kenny's hand, "I keep thinking you're, like, eye raping me or something."

"It's not rape if ya want it, Ky," The blond joked, putting on a goofy grin to hide his unease and adding juvenile humour to lighten the mood; _as always._

"Well as much as I'd love for you to make sexual advances on me, I think I should go home," Kyle said with a roll of the eyes, turning to head back to the Broflovski residence.

"Hey, why can't we hang out for once?" Kenny pouted, hurrying in front of the boy.

"Because my mom's probably going to run you through a breathalyser and do eight different drug tests before letting you through the door," Shelia, as years progressed, liked Kyle's friends less and less, or at least voiced her distaste more often. Her opinions on Stan were mostly positive, Cartman never had a chance (not that Kyle cared), and Kenny found himself on a steady decline since Kyle chipped in money to bail Kenny out of jail for a small possession charge. That set aside, she never approved of his presumptuous _lothario_ attitude or his heavy use of profanity and innuendo.

"...You have a point..." Kenny shivered, an encounter with a miffed Shelia Broflovski far more terrifying than any death he'd ever faced, "But why do you have to go home?"

"So I can do homework?" Kyle answered plainly, moving around the blond, feet sloshing in the snow, "I might as well leave before she finds out I got a detention I probably can't stay for."

"Pfft, no one stays for detention, dude," Kenny laughed. In a belated reaction, he chased after Kyle, stepping in front of him again and walking backwards, "Now why don't we go do something fun together?"

"Because half the time you'll just go between yearning over screwing some dumb bimbo or making clawing at my dick, neither of which I'm up for at the moment."

"I'm sorry; I'll shut up about the bimbos if they make you jealous." He smirked, eyes twinkling.

Kyle scoffed, sticking out his tongue, "Honestly I don't know what I'm supposed to say to you sometimes..."

"Actions speak louder than words, Kyle," Kenny said.

"Are you trying to be deep or trying to convince me to let you in my pants?"

"Up to your interpretation, baby," He purred, putting on a Cheshire cat smile.

"_Kenny..._" Kyle massaged his temples, "You leave me _speechless_."

"I'll take your blatant sarcasm as a rain check, yeah?"

"That would imply I'd actually give you a chance."

"Oh we can get down like there's no one around, and we will one of these days."

"I thought you weren't flirting with me."

"Hey, that was if we hung out. But since you're so sure of going home to do hours of stupid ass equations and shit, I might as well have my fun."

"Can you have fun without adding sex into the mix?"

"Oh so you wanna get high?"

"How about _no_."

"Well, I kinda wanna get high right now," They both stopped, Kenny standing on asphalt and Kyle on concrete. Now that the thought crossed his mind, a little weed to expand range of thinking could help his problem solving.

...That was bullshit. He knew it was—no use lying to himself when it was obvious—but that didn't make the urge any less prevalent, the idea growing like a weed itself.

"Try not to scramble your brain anymore, okay?" Kyle asked.

"No promises, sweetheart," Kenny shrugged, worries and anxiety overwhelmed by the fantasy of hallucinogenics and questionable substances. He started off without even realising it, body as excited as the mind for a good fix of something. A tingling sensation ran through his legs, prickling the skin from underneath. Somehow, his brain overrode that branch of the nervous system, making Kenny care less about the feeling.

"Bye," Kyle waved, eyes following the blond as he walked away.

"I'll talk to ya later, Kyle!" He called, waving quickly before hopping and zooming towards his house, darting down the middle of the street and cutting through lawns.

The Semite sighed. Another burst of wind slapped his side, the boy holding down his hat by the flaps, cold oxygen nipping at his cheeks.

_At least now I can go home, take a hot shower, and sort things out with a warm cup of tea..._

_**And get away from these indignant assholes... Hell at least my goddamn mother appreciates me...**_

For once, maybe a little gushing adoration from his mother didn't sound too terrible.

That was probably the worst part about it.

* * *

Bebe stood amongst the crowd of students, caring not why the alarm was pulled, discussing with some of the girls what to do with the free time they now had.

In that time, she forgot most of what only recently went down in the lunch room, memory blotted by a smirch like Starbucks coffee spilt on a homework problem. Sally was there, Annie was there, Lola was there...they talked...and Sally left, and then Annie. That was the extent of her memory, all her words and her vicious comments lost with the rest of the audio track, just a few flashing mute images telling her the story of her time in the cafeteria.

The other girls were gone, lost in the commotion, not that Bebe particularly cared. They all had their own selfish things to tend to—whether it be a boyfriend or another BFF or whatever the hell else there was for a small town girl to care for—and Bebe wasn't much of an exception.

The blonde waved to the others as they passed by, knowing most of them, flashing each one who looked at her a million dollar smile. She showed no signs of anything wrong, mentally or physically, appearing to the others as the same sociable Bebe Stevens they knew since grade school. She was still the golden gift from heaven that blessed the school with her radiance and grace.

_...People are smiling at me; people are looking at me... That's the way it should be..._

"Hi Timmy! Hey Bridon! Tweek, hey!" She greeted random kids as they passed, usually getting a wave back or at the very least a smile and a case of wandering eyes. She didn't care much how she got it, as long as she got the attention she sought, "Red, Jimmy, looking good! Congrats! Oh hi Heidi!"

"Bebe!" Someone called from behind.

She twirled around, hair flipping around her neck, strands blowing in her face. She squinted through the screen of gold, tucking some of the hair behind her ear.

Coming up to her was Token, jogging at an even pace. The glint in his dark almond eyes spoke for him, telling the girl he was looking for her specifically. And, from the slight shimmer to his dark chocolate skin, he'd been darting around the crowd a while in search for her.

"Token, baby, what's up?" Bebe asked, shifting her weight to one leg, putting a hand on her hip casually.

He slowed down, halting in front of her, breathing heavily through his nose. Token towered over Bebe, standing a solid six foot three with broad shoulders and chiselled muscles that hid beneath his thick wool sweater and dark pants. He was dashing, charming, and down-to-earth, not to mention the captain of the basketball team, wide receiver, and only African-American in the entire school. Attractive as Bebe—and most of the other girls for that matter—found him, Token stayed out of the popular crowd whenever he could, sticking to Craig and the rest of his crew more often than not. So approaching the very epitome of South Park High's popular ideal wasn't part of the usual routine.

"Hi..." He nodded; taking a moment to word what he was about to say in his head before saying it aloud, "Have you...seen Clyde? Craig's been looking for him since lunch."

"Well he left halfway through and I don't know where he went," The blonde shrugged, "I'm his girlfriend, not his babysitter." _Even if it feels like that with the way that boy acts sometimes..._

"Well I thought you might know since he's always hanging out with you more than us," Token rolled his eyes, "It's just logical reasoning."

"Honey, I know Craigy wants Clyde back, but he's gotta learn that sharing is caring, kay?" Gold glittered in the girl's eyes, "I don't want to shoot the messenger, I know you're a sweet guy, Token, but Craig needs to stop being so damn possessive. It's no wonder people call you guys his bitches." The words spilt out of her mouth with little thought put into them.

Token's lips pressed into a hard line, raising a thick brow as he stared at the golden girl. He expected Bebe to speak without thinking—most people at school said whatever was on their mind like they were the main character of some teen sitcom—but this was one of the moments when he just wanted to just shake someone for mouthing off. Token wasn't a violent person; he just got sick of people missing the point.

"Bebe," He sighed, wiping his forehead in frustration, "That's not what I meant _at all_. I was just asking if you knew where he was and thought that you of all people would know since last I heard, he was with you. I'm sure Craig was just curious since Clyde's been his—and my—friend since grade school. _And we are not under any circumstances Craig's 'bitches'_."

"God, you don't need to be so huffy about it," Bebe stuck out her tongue, "I'm not, like, trying to keep him from you. Plus I think he went to, like, talk to Jason or something anyway," She pointed randomly into one of the crowds, "Over there's probably ya best bet since there's a higher concentration of guys than girls. I wouldn't even be shocked if Craig already found him, then again he's probably sitting on his ass somewhere smoking cheap cigarettes and bitching for someone to suck him off."

"...Right..." Token nodded slowly. If anything, Bebe just gave him more reasons not to hang out with her upper-class clique; and he was the richest of the school, "I'll just...talk to ya later."

Her smile returned, wiggling her fingers as she waved a goodbye to him, "Bye, honey, tell Clyde I love 'im,"

Token nodded his head, giving the blonde a shaky thumbs-up as he walked off, lips pursed. He turned, back facing the blonde as he quickly shot into the crowd.

_Well... With him gone and no boyfriend to hang around with, I guess there's no point wasting time bullshitting around here... Boooooriiiiing..._

Bebe whipped her hair, dipping her hand into her pocket in search of her cell phone. After tapping a few buttons and unlocking the device, she went to her contacts, adding a long list of her myriad of BFFs before moving to the text box.

'Meet dwntwn 4 sum shopping?' She typed, fingers moving at lightning speed before she jammed down on the green 'send' button.

She waited a few seconds.

The phone vibrated madly in her palm, the number of new messages going up with every half a second, each one of them an acceptance to the outing invitation.

Bebe's smile grew as she scanned the messages, walking towards the student parking lot as she scrolled through the texts. She sent a few replies, saying who she'd ride with and how their little elitist shopping mission would work out, and then shoved the cell back in her pocket, a content look on her face.

An unexpected girls' day out would be a nice turn of events, and she'd end up going home with a few new nice things on top of it.

* * *

"SON OF A BITCH!" Cartman shouted, leaning on the rusted railing of the back steps, catching himself after nearly slipping on some ice on the top step and avoiding a nasty fall.

He and Butters ran out the backside of the school, winding up near all the rancid smelling trash and unkempt dumpsters. The thick stench of old school lunches and build up of various janitorial clean ups hung in the air, suffocating the two milling on the narrow concrete stairs. After all these years, the latent tinge of tobacco mixed with the odour, serving as a reminder of the place's former job as the Goth kids' hangout. The musty rug still lay in the snow, broken radio propped against the wall, the four children of darkness out of the school system and spending their time elsewhere these days, dropouts of either high school or college. Even without them sitting there as rambling nonconformist nuisances, the place still wasn't all that great.

"C-Careful, Eric!" Butters chirped, cowering near the door, occasionally glancing over his shoulder at the drop to the ground. A few feet seemed like a few stories to him.

"Fucking ice," The brunet grumbled, taking a long step over the slippery patch and onto the next stair, "Goddammit, who even pulled the freaking alarm?"

"I-I-I-I dunno!" The blond shrugged, gripping the guardrail for dear life, staring intently at the steps as he made his way down after Cartman, "B-b-but ya think there's a r-real fire?" His eyes bulged, terrified of the thought.

"Pfft, no," Eric scoffed, hopping off and skipping a few steps, feet making craters in the snow. He took a few steps, then turned to face the cowardly boy, "Look at the sky," He pointed to the blue sky, "No smoke. If there was a fire we'd see some smoke by now and smell barbequed furniture. Plus the inside of the school'd be lit up like a goddamn candle from the fire," He rolled his eyes, "God you're such a retard."

"I-I'm sorry..." The boy replied, slinking tentatively down the stairs, head held low. He shuffled his feet when he stood on the ground, kicking little bits of snow as he bit his lip, "S-s-sometimes I'm a-a lil' slow s'all..." He hated admitting his slow wit, it usually earning him a lower opinion in the eyes of others. Deep down, he _did_ mean well.

"Yeah, a little," Cartman snorted, pulling up the collar of his shirt to cover his nose, creating a filter for the horrid smell. His eyes flickered around, seeing no one around and no one to force him anywhere. Why hang around the stinky back of the school when with a mother at home cooking great food and a spot on the couch right in front of the television?

"I'm getting outta here," He added, starting off towards his house, ready for a nice bag of Cheesy Poofs and a recorded marathon of Terrance and Phillip.

"Huh?" Butters' head snapped up, "Where ya goin'?"

"Home, dibshit," Eric said, speeding up, "No one's going back to class and I'm not hanging around next to a fucking dumpster with a little faggot when I could be watching some goddamn TV."

"C-c-can I come?" He stammered, missing the point.

"What part of not hanging out with a little faggot didn't you get?" The brunet said with a snarky edge.

"O-oh..." Butters gulped, foot twisting around his other ankle, "We-we-well I'll see ya tomorrow, then..."

Cartman waved his hand carelessly, trudging off and disappearing round the bend.

Butters shivered as the wind blew at him, chilling his bones and polluting his nostrils with the dumpster's scent. He bit his lip, feeling it chap from the cold air. A grumble came from his stomach, torso vibrating as he looked around.

"We-well no use st-st-stickin' 'round here..." He muttered to himself, wrapping his arms around his belly and beginning to walk the other way, "I-I guess I can...go w-wait for Mom or somethin'..."

He let his feet carry him away, teeth weakly nibbling on the flesh of his lips, mind wandering as he wandered. Butters got used to being lonely—in the end he didn't have much for people anyway—though today the vacancy expanded, trying to swallow him up. Instead of flashing a smile or running to find Dougie and turn into Professor Chaos, he let the feeling sit, watching it grow, standing on the edge and looking into the void.

He wanted company.

More company.

_Just more of something to fill the emptiness._

The blond let out a soft sigh, squeezing his torso tighter. The organs inside knotted. His stomach chortled wryly, clambering for food to vacuum up and attempt to patch the growing hole. The wind slapped his cheeks, frosting the bare skin as he marched on.

_Oh hamburgers... D'oh why'd I haveta mention hamburgers...? Aw dangit..._

Another gurgle came from his belly, stomach voicing complaints.

_...Food just some food, just some SOMETHING..._

"BUTTERS!" A high-pitched yelp broke the damper air.

The blond shook his head, noticing that he'd walked into the centre of one of the rows of the school parking lot. When he looked up, he saw a car filled with girls, Red in the driver's seat and Heidi at her side, a bundle of blondes crammed into the back. The two in the front seat glared at him, waiting for him to hurry up or so help them they'd floor it and leave his body all over the damn lot.

_HONK! HONK!_

"W-wah!" Butters jumped, suffering a delayed reaction.

"Butters, over here!" A voice called from the side. When the boy looked, he saw Leroy waving him over, Dogpoo and Francis beside him.

Butters looked at the seething girls, then at the boys, then back at the girls. He blinked, knowing what to do, yet still acting uncertain about it.

_HONK! HOOOOOOONK!_

Francis muttered something, scrambling over to Butters, grabbing his wrist, and yanking him over to the side of the road, motioning for the girls to go.

Butters whirled around, watching with a gaping mouth as the car slowly passed, various laughs and insults leaking from the open windows. In the back seat on the side closest to him, he saw Bebe look over, giggling right in his face for just a second, and then the car was gone.

"Jesus Christ," Dogpoo frowned, "The hell were you thinking?" There was bitterness to his tone, his resentment towards the blond showing in his voice.

"I..." Butters blinked his eyes rapidly, "I dunno..."

"Gawd, you're gonna get yourself killed if you keep that up," Leroy said, adjusting his glasses. He didn't sound as though he particularly cared if such a situation did occur.

"We-well I've been a-a lil' stressed out today!" Butters whined, throwing his hands in the air and giving the three lesser popular brunets a sad look.

Dogpoo rolled his grey eyes, brushing dirt off his forever stained coat. Leroy snorted, nostrils flaring, looking like a pimply pig for a moment. Francis was the only sympathetic one, letting out a sigh of pity.

"Butters, try not to play road kill," He said, taking a moment to blow a stray clump of hair out of his face, "God knows you might meet someone who'll actually mow ya down."

"Hey they wouldn't do it!" The blond pouted, imitating a small child with big eyes and a quivering bottom lip, "The girls're real nice."

"Dude, they just laughed at you when they drove by," Dogpoo pointed out, "You're lucky Bebe didn't spit on ya when the car passed."

"Hey, she ain't like that!" Butters snapped, furrowing his brow, "She's real nice to me!" He'd defend that girl with every fibre of his being. Even after she insulted him during his long ago undercover mission as 'Marjorine', he still found her just as sweet and kindly as the other boys head over heels for her, developing a boyish crush himself. Of course, everyone who knew about it thought the idea was stupid, Butters dwelling on the outer crust of the social workings and Bebe in the very core. Just more reason for others to take pity on the simple boy.

"Yeah, whatever, just don't play in traffic," Francis said dully.

_GUUUUUUUUGRGRGRGH!_

"Sweet Jesus," Butters gasped, staring at his stomach, a flush of embarrassment washing over him.

The other three gave the blond odd looks.

"I...I guess I'm just extra hungry today..." He lifted his head, smiling sheepishly.

The trio was not impressed.

"_BUTTERS STOTCH!" _A shrill cry pierced the boys'—as well as the rest of the kids in the parking lot's—eardrums.

Butters looked in the distance, swallowing all the saliva in his mouth hard as his mother approached, appearing rather displeased.

"H-hey Mom!" He waved, watching the other boys split from the corner of his eye.

"What are you doing here young man?" Linda shouted, "Shouldn't you be in line with your class?"

"B-b-but I wasn't in class when the bell rang!" _Not_ _like anybody even stays in line anyways..._

"Then where were you?" She crossed her arms, tapping her foot on the pavement.

"Wi-with Eric!" He peeped.

"Right, and where is he now?" The blonde woman raised a brow, patiently awaiting an answer she could shoot down. Even though the Stotch family divorced, both parents still found joy and assurance in grounding their only child.

"Gu-gu-gu-gone..." He sadly admitted.

"You are _grounded_, mister," Linda spoke like a judge, delivering the verdict without giving her boy a fair trial or tangible grounds, "We're going home, now."

"Yes ma'am..." Butters mumbled.

_GUUUUUUUUUURGRGRGRGH!_

"C-can we maybe stop and get somethin' to snack on the way ho-?"

"_NO_."

"A-alright then..."

_May-maybe I'll be grounded with the refrigerator..._

* * *

"Isn't this nice?" Wendy asked, arm locked with Stan's as they walked to the Marsh house. They took a more direct route, already spotting some of the residential houses, passing a few of the duplexes always for rent and the houses that always had a car in the driveway yet no one appeared to live there.

"Huh?" Stan's head bobbed, the boy forcing his eyes open, "Oh...yeah...sure..." He wasn't all too talkative, but Wendy decided to be chatty. He knew she liked deep conversations and all of that, but he frankly didn't have nearly enough energy or brainpower to conduct an intelligent conversation without collapsing in the snow halfway through.

"Just you and me on a nice calming walk out early from school..." She went on, leaning her head on Stan's shoulder. Not once did any doubt or worry overtake her, the raven-haired girl intoxicated by her own content thoughts of having her prized and beloved boyfriend. For the first time all day, she felt at ease.

Though it should've comforted Stan as well, he couldn't help but feel queasy at her sudden displays of affection. She said she'd talk to him, and he wanted to listen; but would he be sure to keep tuned in or would he short-out before that happened?

"Wendy..." Stan said, "What's going on with you..._really_?"

"What do you mean what's going on?" She replied, a sharp undertone to her innocence.

"I mean you looked pretty freaked out in Marine Biology..." He went on, staring off into the mountains, "And you said you'd explain why..."

"Oh..." Wendy's skin paled a shade, "_That_..." She didn't know how to explain it—she'd forgotten it—and she didn't really want to. She was happy and she wanted to enjoy the moment. But Stan was managing to ruin it without any outside help to blame.

"Yeah... Mind explaining?" Stan mumbled, words slurring. _Shit..._ After a blessed hour or so of not succumbing to another sleeping spell, the lassitude worsened, pressuring him to let his eyes gently close and draw him back into the possible death trap awaiting him beyond the world of the conscious and awake.

"I-it's nothing important," She said in a grim tone, stiffening with a hard grimace, "Really, let's just enjoy ourselves."

"It's _not_... _Nothing_... And it _is_..._important_," The breaks in his speech made it all the more obvious that he was losing his battle, and giving Wendy more reason to dodge the answer. He reached up and massaged the bridge of his nose, pattern of circulation diluting the pains from his crashing mind.

"Stan, you're tired, I don't want to argue," Wendy's tone sharpened, the blade of her voice sharp and piercing as a sword, slashing through her sangfroid. The composure facade couldn't hold much longer if Stan kept prying, and his questions only sent signals for the rat scuffling inside the ebon girl's head to bite more wires, giving her false alerts of threat. They were a threat to the alien, but not to her. To her, the questions would've opened up a chance to tell Stan more of the wrong situation for him to ponder when he could think without his brain running like Windows 97.

_If_ his brain could think properly again, anyway.

"Wendy... You're using... _That_ _tone_..." Stan knew Wendy his entire life, dating her a good half of it. When Wendy's words turned sounded like verbal weapons rising, she was obviously getting defensive. Wendy took up that tone rather often—especially around Cartman—but rarely was it ever directed at him. If anything, she was begging for Stan to investigate further.

"_I'm not using a tone you're just tired,"_ She harshly hissed, venom coating her words unintentionally.

Stan squeezed the bone of his nose. His ears registered his girlfriend's statement as a metallic hiss of a snake, the last noise he wanted to hear. His eyes shut, Stan stopping short as he swam—_drowned_—in the deathly images and sensations left from the nightmare.

_Snakes slithering..._

_Brimstone burning..._

_Heat suffocating..._

"_STAN!"_

He opened his eyes, immediately spying Wendy hovering over him. An aura of green encompassed her, glowing like a radioactive angel. At least, angel was the first thought that crossed his mind. Her eyes shined a brilliant and bright green, much like Kyle's he thought, disarrayed hair blowing softly in the breeze, her expression of maternal and loving concern a soothing sight to see.

Yet, just like the last time he blacked out, her image distorted before him. Unlike last time, however, the green wrapped around her, wrapping her up in thick luminescent chains, locks adorned of all varieties. The love turned to terror, parted lips mouthing out screams as green coloured her skin from the bottom up, a watery texture coming to her. Although he looked up at her, she appeared as though he was looking down at her, watching her as green swallowed her up, appearance fractured like she was sinking into water, hair floating in nonexistent liquid. The green darkened, going from a lighter sea green to a deep, murky olive. It consumed her, eating her like a snake gulping up a rat of a small dog, Wendy soon becoming a featureless forest green figure with neon green lines where the chains belonged and two slits were the eyes once were.

Stan's heart froze in his chest, terrified more by this hallucination than any other; perhaps more than the nightmare. Reality wasn't even safe anymore, the two words colliding, and bringing hell to him.

Sleep didn't seem that bad anymore, the hole with the snakes a luxurious condo on the seaside of the Caribbean in comparison to seeing these things. The others were tolerable by a stretch; but seeing Wendy plunge into a watery abyss turned the knife inside him.

"_STANLEY RANDALL MARSH!"_

Stan shot up, taking a deep breath, breaking out of the daydream. The green cloud vanished, blowing away in the wind and fading.

He looked around, figuring out what'd happened in the real world during his lapse. Snow covered his back, some clumps caught in the collar of his jacket, chilling the back of his neck and hiding in his hair. Behind him was an imprint of where he laid in the blanket of white, his upper body making more of a crime scene silhouette than a snow angel of any sorts. His bum sat next to the sidewalk and the snow-covered grass, legs spread awkwardly across the span of the beige concrete.

_I could've hit my head and that's why..._ He thought, clinging still to logic. His hope in reason over the course of the day stood on its last leg, sense diminishing in value. He really hoped it was just the apparent lack of sleep causing this. _Please have it just go away and it just be the sleep..._

"Get up," Wendy reached out, grabbing Stan's arm with both hands and pulling him off his ass, "You need some rest and care NOW!"

Stan swayed as he stood, barely hearing Wendy speak. All his thoughts centred around his plan for when he got home.

_I don't want to but I do and I have to I gotta sleep before Freddy comes around the corner and starts slitting throats or some psycho shit like that..._

As Wendy beat the snow off Stan's back, a Navigator rolled up on the side of the road, slowing down and breaking next to the couple. Slowly, the window rolled down, revealing Randy Marsh at the wheel of the car. The low sound of tween pop (convinced that he was still 'cool' listening to that garbage) played from the speakers, shattering the silence with shit sounds to a drumbeat.

"_Staaaan_," Randy said, letting the 'a' drag as always. Although Randy tended to be a ball of energy most of the time, he set himself into serious dad mode, obviously noting Stan's shabby state. He hadn't entirely abandoned his fun loving often flippant nature, but he tried harder since the remarriage to control his moods and actions more. If not for Sharon, he at least wanted his son to think better of him, their father-son relationship growing rocky and slightly strained as adolescent hormones ignited and raged.

Stan glanced over at his father, not feeling all too talkative and irked by the tween pop on the radio.

"Hey, Dad," He replied.

"Hi, Mr. Marsh," Wendy peaked over Stan's shoulder.

"Hi..." Randy looked around awkwardly a moment, "Shouldn't you be at school?"

"Fire alarm...out early...yeah..." Stan refrained from saying just why and who pulled the alarm.

"Oh," Randy nodded, "Well you kids shouldn't have to walk all the way home," He fixed his eyes on Stan, "Especially you, son, you look tired."

"Yeah..." _Thank you, Captain Obvious..._

"Come on, get in the car," Randy took a hand on the wheel, waving them in, "Wendy I can just drop you off and Stan when we get home we're going to make sure you're okay...and stuff."

The couple looked at each other, neither immediately jumping at the chance. Wendy, although she didn't mind Randy, felt the creeping intimidation crawling back to loom over her again. Stan, though tired, wasn't sure if he wanted to spend a car ride with his father. In the end, though, he figured he'd be a lot better off in a car than wondering the streets as a zombie.

"Fine, Dad," Stan sighed, hobbling to the passenger's seat, opening it up and sliding in. Wendy took the backseat, sitting directly behind Stan, her gaze repelling from the mirrors. Once the two buckled their seat belts, Randy eased his foot on the gas pedal, setting the car in motion.

Wendy folded her hands on her lap, head down, occasionally peaking at Stan from under her lashes. She remained quiet. Yet, in her silence, she didn't notice the whispers in her mind—these ones considerable softer, but there none the less.

Randy kept his eyes on the road, bobbing his head to the trashy beat, making a few fart sounds every now and again to copy the 'lyrics' of the song. Randy's usual response to problems was to take his mind off of them, for a little while at least. He wasn't the type of father or type of person to start questioning his boy on health matters (most of which he knew little about regardless).

Stan rested his head on the cool glass window, drooping in his seat, eyelids sagging. With what little vision he had left, he watched the scenery slowly roll by, the sight making him drowsier. He no longer desired to fight the sleep, choosing one evil over another, preferring his subconscious torture him in that world rather than it spilling into his own. Satisfaction wasn't fully present, but a form of contentment was. He survived the trails of school, for the most part, and was on his way home to change out of his heavy outwear, slink between his bed sheets, lay his head on his pillow, and drift far away from his ditty little home town.

Yet, with that thought, he wasn't sure where he that far away place was exactly.

Just how peaceful this sleep would be Stan deemed debatable.

* * *

Kenny's thoughts flowed in a circuitous manner, his train of thought constantly switching tracks, whirling around mountains of memory and through valleys of worry. He paid little attention to where he was walking, knowing the way already, taking a short cut through the unfenced backyards of the few families gutsy enough to risk a wild animal (or Cartman) from breaking in and messing with the plants or some such thing.

Several times he'd try to push himself to solve more of the mystery at hand-think about the strange behaviours of everyone else-but every time he just drove himself further off track. A thought of Stan's sleepiness somehow steered him to sleeping WITH people. A passing note of Wendy's unusually moody air somehow directly related to light grey smoke clouding the room and filling it with the scent of marijuana. Eric's fiery temper brought him to the small flame of a lighter burning the end of a fresh cigarette. And when it came to Kyle, he couldn't help but think of the sweet and sensual feeling of dominance and sexual pleasure.

Whenever he caught the thoughts, most of which he saw as far from the original subject, he'd shake his head, thinking of something new only for the cycle to repeat.

Focus eluded him, petty desires dancing in his mind, each vice another beautiful woman in scanty clothing twirling around a pole to him. And he had a mental strip club opening up with all the indulgences he yearned for.

_I gotta quit thinking like this... Gotta focus on... Important shit... Like..._

Sex.

Alcohol.

Drugs.

Those three words popped to the forefront of his mind. He knew they were all the wrong answers, but that didn't make them any less tempting. Kenny always dreamt of a life of luxury, escaping from the world of pain and poverty to live in a realm of spice and zest; live in a paradise he created.

His own Garden of Eden, woven from fragmented fibres of scrap into something beautiful, wheat spinning into gold. That fantasy always floated in his mind, usually coming out for more development when he was having a particularly rough day. The troubles all went away there, they all disappeared. In a dark world shrouded with the lies of 'Don't worry, he didn't hit me that hard' or 'I swear I'm not that hungry' or other fibs to get the others to stop their constant worrying, it gave Kenny a place to think about going later. Out of the living hellhole and into a heaven crafted with his own blood, sweat, and tears. It was a hope, a hope bloated with sin, the forms of amusement sewn into the dream world all self-destructive. Thinking of the consequences of the unobtainable fantasy tended to knock the blond out of it, knowing all he had were drafts in desperate need for revision. But today the stakes sounded perfectly manageable, true lethality vastly underestimated.

_It'd be perfect... No bullshit to worry any of us... Booze for everyone... Enough drugs to keep a guy happy for the rest of his life... Fuck ton of girls with big tits and problems keeping on their clothes... Yeah... That's it... That's... The good life..._

The dream intoxicated him, the blond forgetting he was walking in the snow of the Rockies, instead finding himself walking on a beach in some island in god knows what sea. The waters calmly washed over the fine white sand that softly cushioned Kenny's feet. A soft, warm breeze caressed his skin, the sun smiling down upon him as well as his utopia. Just like all the brochures advertised, there was a nice chair under a slender palm tree, an umbrella casting a much needed shadow over the seat. On a small end table beside the seat, a coconut cup sat, filled with a strong _pina colada_. A container of hash oil burned, the aroma swirling in the atmosphere. Five women stood around the set up, all dressed in short hula skirts, breasts hanging out, each a different skin colour, hair colour, and eye colour. The girls all smiled at him, moving their hips and motioning towards the seat, urging him to come to them.

He went without hesitation, grinning with every step closer. Wasn't much, but to him, it'd be heaven.

One step, then another, then another.

The girls danced over to him, all laughing, voices as succulent as their appearances. They surrounded the blond, gathering around him, gluing themselves to him, each staring up happily.

He looked between them, eyes flickering from the hazelnut eyes of the mocha-skinned girl, to the aquamarine of the sun-kissed platinum haired one. The ink haired Asian ran her hands down his arm, dark eyes glittering. Meanwhile, an amber-eyed blonde pressed her body against his side. But, most appealing and beautiful of all, was the redheaded girl right in front of him, hair a fine crimson, eyes a brilliant emerald, and skin a divine porcelain tone. She had her dainty hands on Kenny's shoulders, pulling herself against him, her chest against his.

Kenny reached out a hand, brushing back some of the redhead's curls, her appearance ringing a few bells, yet implacable in the real world, at least on none of the girls he remembered. It didn't matter, nothing had to in paradise.

In the moment of perfection, all hell broke loose. All the girls' smiles curled sinisterly, revealing razor sharp teeth and prickly forked tongues. Their well-manicured nails grew, turning to long jagged points that scratched the surface of his skin like knives. All their eyes went from whatever colour they once were to a sterling red, shining like crystals of polished frozen blood.

The sunlight above intensified, going from a balmy yellow to a blazing light blue, incinerating the serine beach setting, vaporising the water of the ocean. The salty and herbal smell of the air turned to a putrid odour of sulphur and ash. The beach sand became ash, also serving as a layer of quicksand, sucking his feet down and locking him in place, leaving him at eye level of the five demons. Flames flared, the fire's crackle only matched by the women's cackles.

Heaven plunged straight into Hell.

Kenny's smile changed to a look of sheer terror, heart nearly stopping in his chest. There was no escape from his burning garden. His haven became his prison.

The fire-haired temptress leaned over to him, her laugh louder than the others, hers far more taunting, each giggle another lash with a whip. His eyes widened as she neared, but before she could flick her barbed wire tongue at him, the flames engulfed them, everything turning blue and burning.

Burning.

Burning.

_Burning_.

_DOINGGGGGGGGGG!_

"FUCK!" Kenny exclaimed, stumbling back and rubbing his head with one hand and eyes with the other. The his eye sockets were on fire again-a problem he'd really need to talk about with someone with medical knowledge and little to no fee (_so Kyle..._)-and his head took a nice hitting when he walked right into the railroad sign.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, blue tint burning away as the real world reminded Kenny where he truly dwelled. Just on the other side of the track and a short walk down, he saw his beat up hovel, trash littered lawn and broken down Chevy in the driveway waiting for him. A couple of strays loafed around in the yard, more cats for Kenny to foster. Even though the McCormicks could barely feed themselves, their legion of cats was ever expanding.

The blond shook his head, mumbling a string of slurred swears as he walked around the sign, crossing the tracks and heading towards the house.

_Fuck, God knows I need a drink... Or a whole damn six-pack..._

* * *

**A/N: Another chapter done! I actually got this done quicker, what a marvel. Would've been even QUICKER if I didn't have so much work lately, but oh well. It's done. I've been working tentatively around the Marsh situation considering the recent happenings of Season 15. Pumped for October 5th? **

**Everyone's back to being on their own again, pretty much, some just got more depth than others. Don't you worry, we'll look at Bebe and Butters and Cartman and Kyle in the very near future. If everyone had their little episodes at the same time that'd be just too cheesy, ya know? **

**I think I'm infamous for cutting chapters and splitting them in two, since the last leg of the day is going to be covered in the next chapter. That'll deal more with them all at home not to mention more enjoyable adventures in their suffering (and those aforementioned episodes)! So yeah, look forward to that, I'll work on that soon as I can. If you liked this chapter, the next one is gonna be even MORE fun!**

**Thank you very much for reading, and do leave a review. I want to thank my reviewers-ALL OF THEM-because you guys give me more of a push. I had a lot of extra inspiration after finishing the last chapter but all you lovely people made me want to work even faster. **

**So, yeah, just thanks to you for spending moments of your time reading and then for those of you reviewing the additional moments of your time writing something. Stick around, this is merely the tip of the iceberg. ~CQO**


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